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^RENCH’S  STANDARD  DRAMA. 


No.  XLVT. 


THE 


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V  t-<m*  it  -  V  >V 

MUSIC  and  Pi 


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0*7 
6 


'°$ckifo,  o- 


FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


21  iJaufrmllc  Conuirg 

■  •  •  -  * 

IN  TWO  ACTS. 

BY  J.  R.  PL  ANC  HE. 


WITH  THE  STAGE  BUSINESS,  CAST  OF  CHARACTER®, 
RELATIVE  POSITIONS,  ETC 


NEW  YORK: 

SAMUEL  FRENCH, 

122  Nassau  Street,  (Up  Stairs.) 


CAST 


OF 


CH  ARACTFRS. 


Drury  Lane,  1842. 
Duke  De  Chartres *  Mr.  Hudson. 

Count  dc  Brissac  ...  “  Roberts. 

Dr.  Druggcndraft..  “  Compton. 

Pierre  Palliot .  “  Chas.  Mathews, 

Officer .  “  Yarnold. 

Servant .  “  Carle. 

Duchess  de  Chartres  Madame  Vestris. 
Mademoiselle  Duval.  Miss  Turpin. 


Park,  1845. 

Clwnpie  »846. 

Mr.  C.  Kean. 

Mr.  Fenno.Caanfrau 

“  S.  Pearson. 

“  Clark. 

“  Bass. 

“  Nickinson. 

“  Fisher. 

“  W  alcot. 

Buloid. 

“  Levere. 

“  Heath. 

“  Bleecker. 

Mrs.  C.  Kean* 

Miss  Clarke. 

“  Abbott. 

Miss  Roberts. 

*  Grand  Nephew  of  Louis  the  14th,  and  afterwards  the  celebrated  Regent  Duke 
of  Orleans;  During  the  life-time  of  his  father,  he  was  called  the  Duke  de  Chartres. 
His  Duchess  was  Francoise  Marie  de  Bourbon,  natural  daughter  of  Louis  14th. 
They  we're  married,  Feb.  18th,  1692. 


COSTUMES. 

PHILIP,  DUKE  DE  CHARTRES. — Purple  velvet  coat  embroidered  in  gold, 
wide  cuffs,  white  satin  breeches,  three-cornered  hat,  full  powdered  wig. 

COUNT  DE  BRISSAC. — Light  blue  coat,  with  gold  trimmings,  blue  breeches 
three-cornered  hat,  powdered  wig. 

DR.  DRUGGENDRAFT. — Square  cut  coat  of  black  velvet,  black  velvet  breeches, 
black  silk  stockings,  three-cornered  hat,  curled  and  powdered  wig. 

PIERRE  PALLIOT. — Stone-coloured  coat,  trimmed  with  black  velvet,  full  trunk? 
of  the  same. 

OFFICER. — Military  suit,  high  jack  boots. 

SERVANT. — Livery  of  white  merino,  faced  with  red. 

DUCHESS. — Rich  brocade  dress,  open  in  front,  and  looped  up  with  flowers,  white 
satin  underskirt,  with  two  deep  lace  flounces,  powdered  hair,  ornamented  with 
feathers  and  flowers. 

MA’LLE  DUVAL. — Orange  coloured  silk  dress,  open  in  front,  plain  white  silk  un¬ 
derskirt,  powdered  hair. 

MASQUERADERS. — Different  coloured  dominoes. 


EXITS  AND  ENTRANCES. 

R.  means  Right;  L.  Left:  R.  D.  Right  Door ;  L.  D.  Left  Door; 
S.  E.  Second  Entrance;  U.  E.  Upper  Entrance;  M.  D.  Middle  Door 

RELATIVE  TOSITIONS. 

R.,  means  Right;  L.,  Left;  C.,  Centre;  R.  C.,  Right  of  Centre ; 
L.  C.,  Left  of  Centre. 

JS.B.  Passages  marked  with  Inverted  Commas,  are  vsua.ly  omitted  in  the 

TdDrf  P.pn  tatinn, 


EDITORIAL  INTRODUCTION. 


I'vis  ingenious  version  of  a  lively  French  vaudeville  comedy, 
vjvis  rirst  produced  the  fifth  of  October,  1842,  at  Drury  Lane 
It  is  from  the  pen  of  Planche,  and  has  all  that  exquisite  neatness 
of  construction,  which  distinguishes  his  manv  successful  pieces 
for  the  stage.  The  materials  of  the  plot  are  slight,  but  they  are 
so  nicely  adjusted,  and  the  incidents,  though  by  no  means  novel, 
are  so  happily  combined,  that  the  comedy  is  a  succession  of 
amusing  surprises  and  clever  hits. 

The  scene  is  in  France,  in  the  youth  of  Orleans  when  Duke 
f  de  Chartres  :  and  the  “  Follies  of  a  Night”  are  those  of  the  Du¬ 
chess,  who  takes  advantage  of  her  husband’s  absence  with  the 
army  to  venture  to  a  masquerade  ball,  and  those  of  the  Duke , 
who  avails  himself  of  his  supposed  absence  to  return  secretly  to 
Paris  for  a  little  amusement  cf  bis  cwn.  Between  the  manoeu¬ 
vres  of  the  two,  Pierre  Palliot,  who  has  come  X  the  metropolis 
in  search  of  fortune  and  his  uncle  Druggendraft ,  the  ducal  phy¬ 
sician,  is  bandied  about  till  he  finds  all  that  he  sought,  and  even 
more,  in  the  person  of  a  suitable  bride. 

The  comedy  was  thoroughly  successful  in  the  representation 
Charles  Mathews,  as  the  adventurer,  threw  a  tinge  of  rusticity 
into  his  gallantry  and  address,  and  was  a  most  mercurial  young 
spark  ;  and  Madame  Yestris  played  the  coquette  with  her  wont¬ 
ed  elegance  and  ease.  Mr.  Hudson  as  the  Duke ,  appeared  to 
better  advantage  than  he  had  ever  done,  his  vivacity  not  being 
too  boisterous ;  and  he  sang  a  song  of  rakish  sentiment  with  pi¬ 
quancy  and  effect.  Compton,  as  Dr.  Druggendraft,  was  droll 
without  buffoonery.  There  was  a  quiet  avoidance  of  grimace 
and  exaggeration  iu  his  manner,  and  he  won  hearty  applause 
without  either.  The  effect  of  the  little  songs,  unintroduced  by 


IV 


EDITORIAL  INTRODUCTION. 


symphony,  as  if  they  were  but  vocal  terminations  to  the  dialogue, 
was  very  pleasant.  “  Every  one  of  the  performers,”  says  the 
Examiner,  “  acted  well,  and  sang  well,  and  the  running  accom¬ 
paniment  of  laughter  from  the  audience  never  failed.  The  most 
morose  must  have  yielded  to  the  infection ;  and  we  were  not 
surprised  next  day  to  see  grave  critics  resenting  the  weakness  of 
giving  was  to  a  piece  that,  with  nothing  wonderful  in>the  way 
of  character,  and  no  astonishing  harvest  of  wit,  had  made  so  ma¬ 
ny  people  happy  for  half  an  evening.  It  is  a  charming  addition 
to  Mr.  Planche’s  many  accomplishments  of  that  kind.” 

This  comedy  was  one  of  the  favourite  afterpieces  of  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Charles  Kean,  during  their  recent  theatrical  tour  through 
the  United  States.  It  is  also  frequently  performed  at  Mitchell’s 
Olympic  Theatre  with  that  spirit  and  good  taste,  which  the  ma¬ 
nagement  habitually  displays  in  its  production  of  vaudevilles  of 
this  class.  We  would  like  it  better  if  the  songs  were  all  pre¬ 
served  in  the  representation  ;  but  it  is  not  often  that  we  have  a 
comic  hero  and  heroine,  who  can  please  by  their  singing  as  well 
as  by  their  acting. 


Those  who  have  read  or  seen  a  three  act  Comedy  called  u  Chariot,” 
by  Messrs.  Lockroy,  Anicet  Bourg3ois,  and  Vanderburch,  will  know 
how  far  I  have  deviated  from  the  plot  of  the  original.  Those  who 
have  not,  will  be  satisfied  with  my  acknowledgment  of  obligation  to 
o  French  Cadre — such  an  avowal  being  more  necessary  for  my  credit 
than  for  their  amusement.  I  shall  only  add,  that  none  of  the  Vaude¬ 
villes  in  this  comedy  arc  to  be  found  in  the  French  piece,  and  that 
those  sung  by  Madame  Vestris  and  Mr.  Hudson  are  published  (with 
the  music  adapted  to  them  by  Mr.  T.  Cooke,)  by  Mr.  Chappell,  50 
New  Bond  Street. 


October  20 th,  1842. 


J.  R.  P. 


•  .  .  * 


y  ;  >  * 


♦ 


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‘ 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


ACT  I. 

Scene  I. — Foyer ,  or  Saloon  of  the  Ojpera  House,  in  the 
Palais  Royal  at  Paris ,  A.  D.  1693. — In  the  c.,  a  Pedes¬ 
tal,  upon  which  is  a  Clock — immediately  wider  it,  a  Seat. 
A  Balustrade  at  the  hack,  divides  the  Foyer  from  a  Lob¬ 
by,  supposed  to  lead  into  the  body  of  the  Theatre.  Arches 
at  each  side  form  entrances  into  the  Foyer.  As  the  Cur¬ 
tain  rises,  Music  heard  as  from  the  Ball.  Masquers  are 
seen  passing  to  and  fro,  and  lounging  over  the  Balustrade. 

\+e 

CHORUS. — (u  Danse  des  Folies,  Gustave.'1) 

Merrily  !  merrily  !  merrily  !  merrily 
Hasten  to  the  Masquerade, 

Merrily !  merrily !  merrily  !  merrily  ! 

Be  the  call  of  mirth  obeyed. 

Come  where  Beauty 
Claims  your  duty — 

Love,  in  whispers  soft  conveyed, 

Makes  the  tender 
Heart  surrender 
Quickly,  at  the  Masquerade. 

Merrily  !  merrily  !  merrily  !  &c. 

[ Masquers  gradually  disperse. 

Enter  Pierre  Palliot,  r.  u.  e. 

Pie.  [Advancing  and  looking  around.}  Wonders  will  ne¬ 
ver  cease  !  I  am  here,  actually  here — and  twelve  months 
ago  who  would  have  deemed  it  probable,  nay,  possible] 
But  it’s  quite  true,  unless  I  am  in  a  dream.  Here  do  I 
stand,  Pierre  Palliot,  aged  twenty-two,  native  of  Beauvais, 
son  of  Michael  Palliot,  blacksmith  and  farrier,  here  do  I 
positively  stand  in  the  Saloon  of  the  Opera  House,  in  the 
Palais  lioyal  at  Paris,  with  an  assignation  in  my  hand 


8 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


[Act  1. 


from  a  *ovely  woman  of  quality ;  for  I  have  no  doubt 
whatever  that  these  lines  have  been  written  by  some  lady 
of  high  rank  and  exceeding  beauty,  who  has  been  struck 
with  my  personal  appearance,  and  has  discovered  where 
I  live.  Look  at  the  paper — soft  as  satin — smell  it — like  a 
garden  of  roses — and  then  the  style — so  mysterious  and 
commanding — “  Be  at  the  Masquerade  to-night ,  at  twelve 
\ precisely ,  in  the  Saloon,  and  immediately  under  the  clock.” 
The  thing  speaks  for  itself.  How  fortunate  that  I  had 
money  enough  to  buy  a  ticket.  Another  week,  and  my 
purse  would  have  been  empty  !  There’s  the  clock :  it 
only  wants  five  minutes  to  the  time ! 

AIR. — Pierre. — (“Mon  rocker  de  St.  Malo 

My  first  grand  step  in  life  ’twill  be, 

Of  girls  I’ve  wooed  a  score ; 

But  to  a  dame  of  quality, 

I  never  spoke  before  ! 

As  the  hour  draws  near, 

I  scarce  can  draw  my  breath * 

My  first  step  in  life,  I  fear. 

Will  really  be — my  death. 

At  Beauvais,  they  used  to  say, 

I  had  such  a  winning  way, 

And  I  own  I  found  the  fair 
Very  tender-hearted  there ; 

But  in  such  things,  Paris  may 
Ditfer  widely  from  Beauvais! 

As  the  hour  draws  near, 

I  scarce  can  draw  my  breath,  &c 

Enter  Dr.  Druggendraft,  r.  u.  e. 

l)r.  j D.  [ Reading  a  note.]  “  Be  at  the  Masquerade  to¬ 
night,  at  twelve  precisely ,  in  the  Saloon,  and  immediately  un¬ 
der  the  clock.”  Who  could  have  sent  me  this  note!  I  burn 
with  impatience  to  behold  the  writer !  Some  lady  of  the 
Court,  fascinated  by  my  manners,  and  dazzled  by  my  repu¬ 
tation.  [ Reads  the  address. J  “  To  Dr.  Druggendraft,  Phy¬ 
sician  in  ordinary  to  their  Royal  Highnesses  the  Duke  and 
Duchess  de  Chartres.”  Let  me  see  !  let  me  see  !  My  old 
countrywoman,  the  Countess  of  Klatterhausen,  who  came 
from  Bavaria  with  the  Duchess  of  Orleans  !  Venus  forbid! 
Ma’lle  Duval,  the  new  and  lovely  lady  in  waiting  on  the 
Duchess  de  Chartres  ;  if  it  should! — but  no — 1  can  scarcely 
venture  to  hope  so — and  yet,  a  poor  dependant  on  the 


Scene  I.] 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


9 


Duchess’s  bounty,  she  may  have  been  flattered  by  the  at¬ 
tentions  of  a  man  of  my  talent  and  influence. 

Pie.  [Aside,  looking  at  his  note.}  I  am  sure  it  will  turn 
out  to  be  from  the  lady  who  let  her  handkerchief  fall  from 
her  coach,  the  day  before  yesterday. 

Doc.  [Alside. J  It  must  be  from  Ma’lle  Duval. 

Pie.  [Aside. J  It’s  just  twelve.  She’ll  be  here  in  an  in¬ 
stant,  whoever  she  is  !  There’s  a  seat  under  the  clock — 
I’ll  take  possession  of  it. 

Dr.  D.  [Aside.]  There’s  a  seat  under  the  clock — I’ll  se¬ 
cure  it.  [As  he  turns  towards  it,  Pierre  seats  himself.]  Con¬ 
found  it !  there’s  a  fellow  just  popped  himself  into  it.  J  To 
Pierre.]  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir ;  but  would  you  allow  me 
to  sit  there  \ 

Pic.  With  the  greatest  pleasure,  sir,  after  me. 

Dr.  D.  Excuse  me,  sir,  but  I  mean  now. 

Pie.  Excuse  me,  sir,  I  cannot  move  at  present. 

Dr.  D.  But,  sir,  I  am  sure,  when  I  toll  you  that  I  have 
a  particular  reason — 

Pie.  And,  sir,  when  I  tell  you  that  I  have  particular 
reason — 

Dr.  D.  But,  my  dear  sir,  I  assure  you  that  I  have  an 
appointment  of  the  utmost  confidence. 

Pie.  But,  my  dear  sir,  so  have  I. 

Dr.  D.  What !  under  this  clock,  sir  ? 

Pie.  Immediately  under  this  clock,  sir — at  twelve  pre¬ 
cisely. 

Dr.  D.  [Aside.]  The  devil!  “At  twelve  precisely” — 
“  Immediately  under  the  clock.”  The  very  words  in  my 
note  !  Can  it  be  a  woman  in  male  attire  1  [Aloud.]  Will 
you  allow  me  to  inquire — did  you  expect  to  see  me  here! 

P  ie.  Hav’n’t  the  slightest  notion  who  you  are,  sir. 

Dr.  D.  Sir,  you  have  quoted  words  which  are  contained 
in  this  note,  and  I  must  therefore  insist — 

Pie.  In  that  note — they  are  in  this  note  ! 

[Comes  forward,  l. 

Doth.  [Reading  their  notes  at  the  same  time.]  “  Be  at  the 
Masquerade  to-night,  at  twelve  precisely ,  in  the  Saloon,  and 
immediately  under  the  clock,” 

Dr.  D.  Ha  ! 

Pie.  Eh  ] 

Dr.  D.  W  ord  for  word  ! 


10 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


[  Acr  I. 


Pic.  Lettei  for  letter  ! 

Dr.  D.  Sir !  there  must  be  some  mistake.  You  will 
perceive,  this  letter  is  plainly  addressed  to  me. 

P  ie.  And  this  to  me.  [They  exchange  notes. 

Dr.  D.  \ Reading. J  “  Monsieur  Pierre  Palliot,  No.  7 ,  Rue 
de  UEchelleP 

Pie.  “  To  Dr.  Drug gendr  aft,  Physician  in  ordinary  to  their 
Royal  Highnesses  the ” — Good  gracious  !  You  Dr.  Drug* 
gendraft !  Why,  then,  you’re  my  uncle  !  Oh,  my  dear 
uncle  !  [ Going  to  embrace  him . 

Dr.  D.  Gently,  gently,  if  you  please.  Do  you  mean  to 
say — 

Pie.  I  mean  to  say  that  I  am  Pierre  Palliot,  son  of  Mi¬ 
chel  Palliot,  blacksmith  and  farrier,  of  Beauvais,  who  mar¬ 
ried  your  sister,  who  is  my  mother,  and  from  whom  I  have 
a  letter,  which  I  have  never  been  able  to  give  you,  because 
you  were  never  at  home,  though  I’ve  called  ten  times,  at 
least. 

Dr.  D.  \  Aside.}  Deuce  take  him!  How  provoking! 
[Aloud.}  Well,  well,  young  man,  admit  that  you  are  the 
person  you  represent  yourself,  that  does  not  clear  up  the 
mystery  of  these  notes — this  ridiculous  rencontre. 

Pie.  Yes,  yes,  I  think  it  will — I  have  a  clue  to  if  now. 
It’s  Coquillard. 

Dr.  D.  Coquillard!  Who’s  Coquillard  1 

Pie.  Jean  Coquillard,  a  schoolfellow  of  mine,  the  only 
creature  I  know  in  Paris ;  I  met  him  yesterday,  as  I  was 
coming  back  from  one  of  my  fruitless  calls  on  you,  and 
told  him  that  I  despaired  altogether  of  finding  you.  Upon 
which  he  laughed,  and  said,  that  in  less  than  two  days  he 
would  bring  us  face  to  face  !  And  he  has  done  so  !  Ha! 
ha  !  ha  !  The  cunning1  rogue  !  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! 

Dr.  D.  [Aside. |  The  impertinent  rascal  !  Master  Pal¬ 
liot,  I  consider  that  your  friend  has  taken  a  most  unwar¬ 
rantable  liberty  with  my  name,  and  I  request  you  will  tell 
aim  so.  I  wish  you  good  evening.  [  Going. 

P  ie.  Why,  you’re  not  going  off  so,  without  my  mother’s 
letter — I’ve  got  it  in  my  pocket — I’ve  always  carried  it 
about  with  me,  in  case  I  should  meet  you  by  accident. 
There  it  is.  [Producing  letter,  and.  giving  it  to  Dr.  D.J  Read 
it  :  you’ll  find  1  am  recommended  especially  to  your  pro¬ 
tection. 


SCENE  I.] 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


11 


Dr.  D.  '[Putting  the  letter  unread  into  his  pocket.]  Mas¬ 
ter  Palliot,  I  tell  you  what  I  will  do  for  you.  If  you 
will  return  to  Beauvais  to-morrow  morning,  and  promise 
that  I  shall  never  hear  of  you  any  more,  I  will  pay  your 
travelling  expenses,  and  feel  obliged  to  you  into  the  bar¬ 
gain. 

Pie.  Go  back  to  Beauvais  !  Now  that  I  have  found  at; 
uncle  in  Paris,  who  can  make  my  fortune  forme  ! — for  my 
mother  assures  me  you  can  do  it  with  a  word — 

Dr.  D.  Your  mother  flatters  me,  and  deceives  you.  Go 
back  to  Beauvais,  my  good  lad.  You  may  make  a  very 
respectable  blacksmith,  but  you  have  neither  education  nor 
person  to  warrant  a  hope  of  your  success  here. 

Pie.  Neither  education  nor  person  !  Pm  a  capital  fen¬ 
cer,  and  can  play  the  flute  and  the  violin  ;  and  as  to  per¬ 
son,  though  1  have  not  yet  perhaps  acquired  so  distin¬ 
guished  an  air  as  your  Paris  gallants,  I  beg  to  inform  you 
that  I  have  already  been  noticed  by  a  lady  of  rank  and 
fortune. 

Dr.  D.  {Contemptuously .]  You!  In  what  way,  pr’y- 
thee  % 

P  ie.  She  dropped  her  handkerchief  out  of  her  carriage, 
window — a  carriage  with  four  horses,  uncle  !  I  picked  it 
up,  and  ran  after  the  carriage  to  give  it  her  back  again ; 
but  she  never  stopped  to  take  it  ! 

Dr.  D.  Because  she  never  missed  it,  of  course — Do  you 
know  who  the  lady  was  I 

P  ie.  No,  I  didn’t  see  her  face;  but  the  handkerchief  is 
embroidered,  and  has  a  coronet  on  it,  and  a  cypher ;  here 
it  is — perhaps  you  can  tell  me.  [ Producing  a  handkerchief. 

Dr.D.  A  coronet  and  cypher — [Taking  handkerchief 
and  examining  it. — Aside.]  Mercy  preserve  me ! — What  do 
I  see  1 

Pie.  Well  I 

Dr.  D.  [Aside.]  ’Tis  her’s,  no  doubt ! 

Pie.  Do  you  recognize  % 

Dr.  D.  No.  [Aside. J  And  to  think  of  this  young  cox¬ 
comb  presuming  to  suppose  that — no  matter — to  prevent 
any  scandalous  misinterpretations — 

[Puts  handkerchief  into  h  is  pocket. 

Fie.  Hey- lay  !■— I  say,  what  are  you  going  to  do  with 
it  I 


4 


U.  Gr  ILL  LIB. 


12 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT.  [Aci  i 

Dr.  D.  Keep  it — ’Tis  the  best  service  I  can  render  you  ; 
good  evening. 

Pie .  But,  uncle — 

Dr.  D.  If  you  determine  to  return  to  Beauvais,  remem¬ 
ber,  I  will  pay  your  expenses. 

Pie.  But  I  won’t  do  any  such  thing — I  will  stay  at  Pa¬ 
ris  ;  I  want  to  be  a  doctor — like  you. 

Dr.  D.  A  doctor  ! — a  horse  doctor,  perhaps,  at  Beauvais 
— a  doctor  like  me,  indeed — it  will  be  some  time,  I  fancy, 
before  anybody  sees  a  doctor  like  me  ! — go  home,  young 
man — be  advised  ;  or  at  all  events,  let  me  never  hear  any 
more  of  you. 

Pie.  What !  do  you  really  mean  to  treat  the  only  son 
of  your  only  sister  in  this  way  1  Very  well — very  well, 
Dr.  Druggendraft,  I  shall  stay  in  Paris  notwithstanding. 
We  shall  see — we  shall  see  !  [  Walks  about  angrily. 

Enter  a  Servant,  r.  u.  e.,  who  recognizes  the  Doctor ,  and 

gives  him  a  note. 

Ser.  (r.)  {Aside  to  the  Doctor. J  From  her  Royal  High¬ 
ness — 

Dr.  D.  From  her  Royal  Highness  !  Quick,  let  me  pe¬ 
ruse.  {Reads  note  to  himself. 

Pie.  Because  I’ve  been  brought  up  in  the  country — be¬ 
cause  I’ve  not  such  fine  clothes — oh — we  shall  see — we 
shall  see. 

Dr.  D.  {Aside.}  Impossible! — Not  to  be  thought  of! — 
She  must  be  out  of  her  senses  to  imagine- - 

Ser.  {Aside  to  the  Doctor .J  Her  Royal  Highness  is  wait¬ 
ing. 

Dr.  D.  I  come  on  the  instant.  Oh,  I  must  prevent  her 
— I  cannot  suffer — It  would  be  downright  madness. 

[  Going. 

Pie.  Dr.  Druggendraft — do  you  persist  1 

{Intercepting  him. 

Dr.  D.  Oh,  by  the  bye.  {To  Servant ,j  Look  well  at  that 
young  man.  If  ever  he  should  present  himself  at  the  door 
of  my  apartments  in  the  Palace — remember,  I  am  not  at 
home. 

Ser.  I  shall  take  care,  sir. 

Dr.  D.  Good  bye,  young  man — if  you  would  make  a 
noise  in  the  world,  stick  to  your  father’s  sledge  hammer. 

{Exit,  followed  by  Sen  vrtf  p.  u.  e. 


Fcene  I.] 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


13 


Pie.  There’s  an  uncle  for  you  ;  the  children  in  the  wood 
hadn’t  one  so  barbarous.  It’s  enough  to  make  one  forswear 
uncles.  If  I  were  King  of  France,  I’d  abolish  uncles. — 
Go  back  to  Beauvais — be  a  blacksmith — a  horse  doctor  ! 
I’ll  let  him  know.  I’ll  go  to  Coquillard  the  first  thing  in 
the  morning;  he  said  yesterday,  that  a  young  fellow  was 
never  thought  anything  of  in  Paris,  till  he  had  a  mistress 
or  a  duel.  I’ll  have  both  directly,  I  will,  and  I’ll  see  if  I 
can’t  make  a  noise  in  the  world  without  a  sledge  hammer. 
[  Going  out  furiously ,  runs  against  the  Duke  de  Chartres. J 
Stand  out  of  my  way,  do  !  [Exit,  l.  it.  e. 

Duke.  [Hastily  picking  up  Jus  mask,  which  Pierre  had 
knocked  off.]  Confound  the  fellow  !  Is  he  mad,  or  drunk  1 
Luckily,  no  one  was  near  to  see  me  unmasked.  What  a 
set  of  ruffians  there  is  at  these  public  masquerades ;  I  won¬ 
der  any  women  trust  themselves  in  such  a  crowd,  and  yet 
there  are  hundreds  here,  and  some  elegant  looking  crea¬ 
tures,  too.  What  the  deuce  has  become  of  Brissac  1  I 
thought  I  saw  him  go  this  way. 

[Exit  up  the  Stage,  l.,  looking  about. 

Enter  Dr.  Druggendraft,  with  the  Duchess  on  one  arm, 
and  Ma’lle  Duval  on  the  other,  r.  u.  e.  The  Du¬ 
chess  is  in  a  Pink  Domino,  and  Ma'lle  Duval  in  a  Blue 
one. 

Dr.  D.  From  that  gallery,  madam,  you  may  behold  with¬ 
out  danger — but  pray  keep  on  your  mask — 

Duch.  I  cannot — it  smothers  me — I  must  breathe  a  lit¬ 
tle — there  is  no  one  here  at  this  moment  to  see  us. 

Dr.  D.  If  it  should  get  to  the  Duke’s  ears — what  will 
become  of  me  1 

Duch.  The  Duke  is  at  Compeigne  with  the  army. 

Dr.  D.  But  if  his  majesty  should  learn — 

Duch.  You  can  plead  my  commands. 

Dr.  D.  It  will  be  of  no  avail — your  Royal  Highness  must 
pardon  my  saying,  I  ought  not  to  have  obeyed  them.  On¬ 
ly  consider,  madam,  the  Duchess  de  Chartres,  the  daugh¬ 
ter  of  his  Majesty  Louis  the  14th.,  at  a  public  Masquer¬ 
ade,  during  the  absence  of  her  royal  husband,  without  his 
sanction  or  knowledge,  what  motives  may  not  be  attribut¬ 
ed — 

Duch.  My  motives,  sir,  cannot  be  doubled.  I  have 


14 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


[Act  I. 


TP? 


known  all  my  life  how  Princes  pass  their  time  at  Court. 
I  wished  to  see  how  people  amused  themselves  in  Paris, 
and  as  I  am  not  likely  to  learn  that  by  remaining  in  this 
saloon,  I  beg,  as  we  are  here,  that  we  may  descend  at  once 
into  the  ball-room. 

Dr.  D.  But,  madam,  your  Royal  Highness  has  no  idea 
of  the  liberty,  the  license  that  reigns  in  a  Masquerade  ot 
this  description.  You  will  expose  yourself  to  see  and  hear 
many  things — 

Duck.  Which  I  never  saw  or  heard  before.  That  is 
precisely  my  object  in  coming,  as  1  have  already  told  you, 
so  a  truce  to  your  sermons.  If  I  faint,  there  is  Ma’lle 
Duval  to  catch  me,  and  you  to  bring  me  to  again.  We 
are  still  actually  under  the  roof  of  the  Palais  Royal — in 
two  minutes,  I  can  retreat  through  this  gallery  to  my  own 
apartments  ;  and  if  even  cut  off  from  that,  I  have  the  key 
of  the  private  entrance  from  the  street.  In  short,  I  am 
bent  on  the  frolic,  and  will  not  be  disappointed.  Be¬ 
sides — 

AIR. — Duchess. — '*  Le  Boquet  de  Bald* 

After  all  that  you  can  say, 

Where’s  the  wondrous  harm,  I  pray  ? 

If  in  proverbs  truth  there  be, 

My  husband  is  to  blame,  not  me  * 

He  is  absent — I  am  here — 

Surely,  then,  the  case  is  clear, 

’Tis  confessed,  the  wide  world  o’er, 

11  Les  absens  out  toujours  tort.” 

Many  here  disguised  parade. 

Whose  lives  are  all  a  masquerade; 

Many  drop  the  vizor  fair 

Which  in  the  world  they  daily  wear. 

Come,  let’s  join  the  motley  throng, 

Meaning  none — we  do  no  wrong ; 

Pleasure  calls — and  from  her  corps, 
il  Les  absens  ont  toujours  tort.” 

Ma’lle  D.  Your  spirits  run  away  with  you,  madam. 

Duck.  Fear  nothing.  I  can  keep  my  seat — 

Dr.  D.  Your  mask  !  your  mask,  madam — here’s  com¬ 
pany  coming. 

Enter  Duke,  l.  u.  e. 

Duke.  I  can  see  nothing  of  Brissac.  Who  have  wc 
here  ]  I  certainly  should  know  that  shuffling-shambling 


Scene  I.J 


rHE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


15 


gait !  I’d  venture  a  wager,  it’s  my  old  German  physician, 
Doctor  Druggendraft.  Oh,  it  is,  there  can  be  no  doubt; 
and  with  a  girl  on  each  arm,  too.  The  old  monopolist ! 
[77/e  Doctor  keeps  turning  round  with  the  ladies  as  the  Duke 
tries  to  examine  them. ]  How  he  twists  about,  like  a  trussed 
fowl  on  the  spit.  He  is  evidently  afraid  of  losing  either 
his  liver  or  his  gizzard  !  That  pink  domino  under  his  right 
wing  has  a  mighty  pretty  air  about  her.  If  I  could  only 
find  my  aid-de-camp,  we’d  relieve  him  of  both  his  charges 
in  ten  minutes.  Ah,  there’s  Brissac.  [Exit,  r. 

Dr.  D.  Phew  !  Thank  goodness,  he’s  gone  at  last.  I 
began  to  tremble. 

Duch.  To  own  the  truth,  so  did  I. 

Ma'lle  D.  I  was  so  frightened  I  could  scarcely  breathe. 

Duch.  1  really  think  that  man  knew  one  of  us,  or  had 
some  suspicion. 

Dr.  D.  Don’t  say  so,  madam,  or  I  shall  sink. 

Ma'lle  D.  Oh,  mercy  !  Here  he  comes  again  with  ano¬ 
ther. 

Dr.D.  I  feel  something  terrible  will  happen. 

Re-enter  Duke,  with  Brissac,  r. 

Duke.  [To  Brissac.]  Yes  !  they  are  still  here. 

Ma'lle  D.  1  beseech  you,  madam,  let  us  retire. 

Duch.  No,  no,  let  us  lose  them  in  the  crowd — ’tis  the 
best  plan. 

Dr.  D.  This  way,  then,  quick,  quick. 

[Exeunt  Doctor,  Duchess ,  and  Ma'lle  Duval,  l.  u.  e. 

Duke.  Hippocrates  has  taken  the  alarm  !  Follow  him, 
Brissac.  He  doesn’t  know  you,  and  when  you  get  into 
the  thick  of  the  crowd,  make  a  dash,  and  separate  him  from 
the  pink  domino.  I’ll  watch  you  from  hence.  Run,  run, 
or  you’ll  lose  them  ! 

[As  Brissac  runs  out ,  Pierre  enters,  r.  u.  e.,  and  runs 
against  him. — Pierre's  hat  is  knocked  out  of  his  hand. 

Pie.  Stand  out  of  my  way,  do.  Stop  !  Pick  up  that 
hat,  sir,  as  you  knocked  it  out  of  my  hand.  Do  you  hear] 
Come  back,  sir  !  He  won’t  hear,  and  he  don’t  come  back. 
So  much  the  better  !  I’m  insulted  !  The  very  thing  1 
wanted.  He  shall  give  me  satisfaction.  If  I  can  find  him 
again —  [A?  he  is  going  toward  his  hat  to  pick  it  up,  the 


16  THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT.  [A err  I. 

Duke,  wlu  is  watching  Brissac,  hicks  it  out  of  his  way. J 
Hollo,  sir!  Do  you  know  what  you  are  doing] 

Duke.  Go  to  the  devil!  \ Aside.  1  There  they  are  !  J  see 
them  ! 

Pic.  Go  to  the  devil !  Sir,  I  must  insist — 

Duke.  What’s  the  matter  with  you  ? 

P  ic.  Sir,  do  you  know  you  kicked  my  hat] 

Duke.  Sir,  if  you  pester  me,  I  shall  kick  you! 

Pie.  Kick  me  !  Sir,  you  shall  fight  me  !  You  have 
insulted  me,  and  I  demand  satisfaction !  [Aside.]  I’ve  got 
this  fellow,  and  I’ll  stick  to  him. 

Duke.  [Aside.]  How  shall  I  get  rid  of  this  fool  ] 

Pie.  There’s  my  address,  sir.  No.  7,  Rue  de  L’Echelle. 

Duke.  Very  well — you  shall  hear  from  me.  [Aside.]  He 
shall  have  a  month  in  the  Bastile  ! 

Pie.  I  shall  expect  it,  sir.  You  will  favour  me  with 
your  name  and  address,  sir. 

Duke.  [Looking  out ,  and  aside.]  Bravo,  Brissac.  He’s 
got  the  pink  domino  away.  She  breaks  from  him,  though, 
and  there  she  runs — 

Pie.  And  to-morrow  morning,  sir,  I  shall  teach  you  a 
lesson. 

Duke.  [Aside.]  She’s  mine  !  she’s  mine  ! 

[Runs  out ,  l.  u.  e. 

Pie.  [Not  'perceiving  his  exit.]  You  will  find  that  1  am 
not  a  man  to  be  insulted  with  impunity.  Your  name,  if 
you  please,  sir.  [  Turning.]  Gone !  Without  giving  his 
name  !  Well — it  doesn’t  signify — he’s  got  mine,  and  if  he 
isn’t  a  rank  coward,  I  shall  hear  from  him  in  the  morning. 
Yes,  yes,  I  think  I  am  sure  of  my  duel!  And  now  for  a 
mistress.  If  a  pretty  woman  would  but  throw  herself  in 
my  way — 

Enter  the  Duchess,  hastily ,  l.  u.  e. 

Duch.  Save  me  !  save  me  ! 

[ Is  fainting — Pierre  catches  her. 

Pie.  Here’s  one  at  a  wish — Madam,  with  the  greatest 
pleasure — 1 — eh — why,  she  has  fainted.  Poor  soul,  she 
really  has  fainted.  Here’s  an  adventure  — somebody’s  pur¬ 
suing:  her — she  begged  me  to  save  her;  I  w  11  save  her! 
I’ll  be  her  guardian  angel,  and  waft  her — Gad’s  life  !  it’s 
as  much  as  I  can,  though  !  j  Exit,  carrying  Duchess ,  n. 


Scene  II. J 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


17 


Scene  II. — The  Street. — Night. 

Enter  the  Duke,  running — he  stops  short ,  and  looks  on  all 

sides. 

Duke.  No  trace  of  her,  by  all  that’s  provoking !  Brissac 
swore  she  made  for  the  street.  Confound  that  fool  of  a 
Scaramouch  who  knocked  my  hat  over  my  eyes;  in  that 
instant  I  lost  sight  of  her ! 

Enter  Brissac,  hastily . 

Brissac  !  you  must  have  made  a  mistake — she  is  not  this 
way — let  us  return,  and — 

Bri.  Not  if  you  would  remain  unknown,  sir.  The  police 
are  after  us — I  have  had  a  sharp  run  for  it. 

Duke.  The  police — what  for  1 

Bri.  Nay,  1  know  not.  The  girl  in  blue  made  some 
complaint  to  the  Commissary. 

Duke.  Fiddle  faddle-^-complaint — that  we  didn’t  run 
after  her,  I  suppose  ? 

Bri.  No;  the  offence,  I  think,  seemed  to  be  our  pursuit 
of  the  pink  one.  The  old  Doctor  was  half  crazy. 

Duke.  Ha!  ha!  He  little  guessed  who  were  his  tor¬ 
mentors.  But  as  to  the  lady,  she  should  not  have  taken 
flight  if  she  didn’t  wish  us  to  follow  her. 

AIR. — Duke. — ( Old  French  Air,  adapted  by  Mr.  T.  Coolte .) 

With  women,  as  with  other  game,  the  pleasure’s  in  the  chase, 

Once  caught,  the  interest  ceases — yet  to  blame  us,  they’ve  the  face ! 
If  they  would  not  be  hunted,  why  so  chary  of  their  charms  ? 

Can’t  they  fling  themselves  at  once  into  the  nearest  lover’s  arms? 
’Tis  wicked,  it’s  immoral,  to  run  after  them,  they  say, 

When  tis  very  clear  we  couldn’t  if  they  didn’t  run  away. 

[ Exeunt ,  r. 

Scene  III. — Pierre's  Lodging  in  the  Rue  de  L’ Echelle. — 
A  poorly  furnished  Apartment — a  Window  at  the  hack, 
through  which  the  Moon  is  streaming  in — on  r.,  the 
door  of  his  Bedchamber — on  l.,  facing  it,  the  door  open¬ 
ing  on  Staircase — the  door  of  a  Cupboard  or  Closet,  L. 
U.  e. — A  Table  and  two  Chairs. 

Enter  Pierre,  l.,  carrying  the  Duchess,  who  is  still  insen¬ 
sible. 

Vie.  f  Placing  her  in  a  chair ,  c.]  Phew  ! — I've  managed 


18 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


[A  cr  1. 


it ! — I  didn’t  mind  the  level  ground  ,*  but  six  pair  of  stairs 
breathed  me  !  I  began  to  think  I  should  never  get  up  tho 
last  flight.  Here  we  are,  however,  and  the  lady  still  in¬ 
sensible  !  Mercy  upon  us — if  she  should  be  dead  ! — I  may 
be  hanged  for  murder !  I’ve  a  great  mind  to  carry  her 
down  again  into  the  street !  [The  Duchess  moves  and  ut- 
ters  a  sigh.]  Ah  !  she’s  not  dead,  at  all  events  !  I’ll  get  a 
light  and  a  glass  of  water!  [Runs  into  Bedchamber ,  it. 

Duck.  [Reviving.]  All  dark  ! — where  am  I  ? — what  has 
happened  ] — Ma’lle  Duval — Doctor — am  I  dreaming  1 — 
what  place  is  this  1 — ah,  I  remember !  an  uproar,  a  confu¬ 
sion — I  was  pursued  by  some  one — Gracious  powers,  whi¬ 
ther  have  they  transported  me  ]  Help  !  help  ! 

Pierre.  [Within. J  Coming!  coming,  madam,  directly! 

Duch.  A  stranger’s  voice  !  Where  shall  I  fly  1 

Feeling  about  the  room . 

Re-enter  Pierre,  with  a  lighted  candle ,  and  a  glass  of  wa~ 

ter,  r. 


Pie.  Here — here’s  a  glass  of  water,  madam.  I’m  sorry 
I’ve  nothing  better  to  offer  you,  but — [She  turns,  he  starts.] 
Oh  !  what  a  beautiful  creature  ! 

Duch.  [Aside.]  This  is  not  the  man  who  pursued  me! 
[Aloud. J  Where  am  I,  sir — speak,  I  implore  you  ? 

P  ie.  In  the  Rue  de  L’Echelle,  madam — No.  7 — on  tho 
sixth  story — a  long  way  up  ;  but  now  you’re  here,  do  take 
a  sip  of  water,  you’ll  find  it  refresh  you ;  and  pray  sit 
down,  you’re  quite  safe  here,  1  assure  you — and  after  so 
long  a  faint — [Aside. ]  What  eyes  she  has  got ! 

Duch.  Who  are  you,  sir — and  how  came  1  hither  ? 

Pie.  My  name  is  Pierre  P alii ot,  madam,  of  Beauvais, 
and  I  had  the  pleasure  of  carrying  you  here  from  the 
Opera  House — I  can’t  exactly  say  at  your  request — but 
you  begged  me  to  save  you  from  somebody  or  something, 
and  I  did  it  as  well  as  I  could,  at  so  short  a  notice. 

Duch.  I  do  recollect  appealing  to  some  one. 

Pie.  I  was  that  favoured  individual,  madam.  Too  hap¬ 
py  to  afford  any  assistance  to  a  lady  of  your  rank  and  beau¬ 


ty— 

Duch.  Rank  ! — do  you  know  me  'l 

Pie.  I  have  not  that  honour,  madam  ;  but  I  am  con¬ 
vinced,  from  your  appearance,  that  you  are  a  person  of 


Scene  II.] 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


19 


distinction.  It  needs  not  the  splendour  of  that  ornament 
[Pointing  to  a  Locket ,  surrounded  by  brilliants ,  which  hangs 
from  the  Duchess*  neck,]  to  assure  me  that  its  wearer  is  one 
of  the  most  exalted  of  her  sex.  [Aside.]  They  all  like  to 
be  thought  so — and  in  her  present  position,  up  six  pail  of 
stairs,  why — 

Duck.  [Asidei]  He  is  not  an  accomplice ;  and  seems 
obliging  and  respectful.  [Aloud. ]  You  said  you  were  of 
Beauvais,  I  think. 

Pie.  Yes,  madam. 

Duch.  And  perhaps,  then,  a  stranger  in  Paris  1 

Pie.  I  know  but  two  persons  in  it :  Jean  Coquillard, 
an  old  schoolfellow,  and  my  uncle,  Dr.  Druggendraft. 

Duch.  Dr.  Druggendraft  your  uncle  1 

Pie.  Do  you  know  him,  madam  1 

Duch .  I — no — I  have  heard  of  him.  [Aside.]  How  sin¬ 
gular. 

Pie.  The  less  you  know  of  him  the  better,  I  can  tell 
you — he’s  a  good-for-nothing  old  fellow.  Would  you  be¬ 
lieve  it,  madam,  I  am  the  only  son  of  his  sister,  and  he 
has  forbidden  me  his  doors,  because  my  father  is  not  so 
well  off  in  the  world  as  he  is !  Oh,  let  me  only  make  my 
fortune,  as  I  know  I  shall  do  one  of  these  days — 

Duch.  [Aside.]  His  simplicity  assures  me  that  I  have 
nothing  to  fear.  [Aloud.]  My  gratitude  is  due  to  you  for 
the  service  you  have  already  rendered  me  ;  may  I  request 
you  to  add  to  the  obligation  by — 

Pie.  [Interrupting  her. J  Oh,  madam,  you  have  but  to 
speak,  and — 

Duch.  By  calling  me  a  coach. 

Pie.  (l.)  A  coach  !  [Aside.]  Oh,  hang  it !  she  wants  to 
g° 

Duch.  Do,  pray  get  me  a  coach  directly. 

Pie.  I  question  if  at  this  hour  I  should  find  one. 

Duch.  Oh,  yes,  yes  !  I  am  told  all  night  long  in  some 
places. 

Pie.  [Aside.]  What  shall  I  do  ?  if  I  get  her  a  coach, 
she’ll  go  away,  and  I  may  never  see  her  again — I  ought  to 
make  a  passionate  declaration  to  her — What  a  fool ! — I’ll 
summon  up  courage,  and  say  something  very  ardent  !  [A- 
loud.]  Madam  !  [ Advancing  hastily , 

Du -li.  Sir! 


20 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


[Act  1 


Pie.  I- — I’ll  see  if  I  can  get  you  a  coach.  [  Crosses,  l. 

Duch.  Let  me  entreat  you  to  make  haste — every  mo¬ 
ment  is  of  consequence  to  me. 

Pie.  I  am  going  this  instant — you  won’t  mind  being  left 
alone  in  this  apartment  ] 

Duch.  Oh,  no,  no — 

Pie.  It’s  clean  and  airy.  That  window  opens  on  the 
street — there’s  a  very  pretty  prospect  from  it  in  the  day 
time,  I  can  assure  you. 

j Duch.  I  have  no  doubt — 

Pie.  You  can  see  the  roofs  of  all  the  houses  on  the  other 
side  of  the  way. 

Duch.  That  must  be  highly  interesting — but  just  at  pre¬ 
sent — 

Pie.  Ah  !  just  at  present,  the  view  inside  is  most  in¬ 
teresting  to  me !  [Aside.]  I’ve  done  it — I’ve  said  some¬ 
thing  ! 

Duch.  [Aside.]  Will  he  never  go ! 

Pie.  And  she’s  evidently  affected  by  it.  BravoS  I’m  as 
bold  as  a  lion  now.  I’ll  make  a  dash  at  once.  [Aloud.] 
Yes,  madam,  at  this  moment,  I  say  the  view  within  is 
most  interesting;  for,  oh,  madam  ! — 

[Falls  on  one  knee ,  l.  of  her. 

Duch.  [Turning  quickly  and  running  to  him.]  Have  you 
hurt  yourself] 

Pie.  Eh  1  Not  at  all. 

Duch.  Thank  goodness  !  [Helping  him  up.]  1  was  afraid 
you  had.  I  wish  you  to  make  haste,  certainly,  but  not  to 
endanger  your  limbs  or  your  neck. 

Pie.  You’re  very  kind. — I’m  much  obliged  to  you — I — 
I’ll  go  for  the  coach  directly.  [Exit,  l. 

Duch.  Poor  fellow  !  I  think  he  limps  a  little — ’twas  a' 
awkward  fall.  Mercy  on  me  ;  I,  alone,  at  this  hour,  with 
a  young  man,  in  his  apartments !  Oh,  into  what  a  situation 
has  my  foolish  frolic  plunged  me. — What  a  place  to  live 
in.  [Looking  around .]  And  yet,  no  doubt,  he  is  as  happy 
here,  as  he  would  be  in  the  finest  furnished  apartments  in 
the  Palace  of  Versailles.  And  why  not]  After  all,  with 
youth,  health,  and  a  clear  conscience,  one  ought  to  be  hap¬ 
py  anywhere. 

AIR. — Duchess. 

Did  we  mortals  know  how  little  on  earth, 

Was  really  for  happiness  needed; 


Scene  II. J 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT* 


21 


What  cares  would  fade — what  love  and  mirth 
Would  plume  every  moment’s  wing; 

For  content  is  the  only  true  spring, 

From  which  happiness  ever  proceeded — 

And  the  source  which  we  seek  far  and  wide. 

The  poorest  may  find  by  his  own  fireside. 

Now  we  dream  ’tis  this — now  we  fancy  ’tis  there , 

No  light  on  our  dull  sense  breaking; 

As  an  absent  man  hunts  everywhere 

For  the  hat  which  is  under  his  arm. 

For  content  is  the  only  true  charm, 

Of  this  world  a  bright  paradise  making — 

And  the  bliss  which  we  seek  far  and  wide, 

Awaits  us,  unseen,  by  our  own  fireside. 

Ah  ! — Somebody  ascends  the  stairs* — They  pause  at  the 
door.  If  it  should  be — 

Pierre.  [  Without.]  Open  the  door,  if  you  please. 

j Ouch.  No  ! — It  is  his  voice — It  is  Monsieur  Palliot ! 

[  Opens  the  doort  l. 

Pinter  Pierre,  with  a  basket  in  one  hand ,  some  bread  in  the 
other ,  and  a  bottle  of  wine  under  each  arm . 

Pie.  I  beg  your  pardon — but  my  hands,  you  see,  are 
full,  and  I  could  not  turn  the  key. 

Puch.  Is  the  coach  at  the  door  ] 

Pie.  Ah,  the  coach  !  I’m  sorry  to  say,  there  wasn’t  one 
to  be  found. 

Puch.  How  distressing  !  You  surely  cannot  have  tried 
— you  have  been  gone  so  short  a  time  ! 

Pie.  Oh,  I  ran,  and  looked  in  every  direction,  and  hailed 
two  or  three  that  were  hired.  It’s  beginning  to  rain,  and 
they’re  all  gone  in  a  moment. — [Aside. J  I  flatter  myself  I 
told  that  lie  famously.  Oh,  it’s  a  capital  idea  I’ve  got  now, 
if  I  can  but  follow  it  up. 

Puch.  [Aside. j  There  is  but  one  way  left.  [Aloud.]  Sir, 
you  have  shown  so  much  readiness  to  oblige  me,  that  I  am 
emboldened  to  ask  you  another  favour. 

Pie.  A  favour  ! — of  me  ! — Oh,  speak  ! — I — 

[ Endeavours  to  express  his  feelings  by  action ,  but  is  em¬ 
barrassed  by  the  provisions  he  is  laden  with. 

Puch.  May  I  request  you,  as  no  coach  is  to  be  obtained, 
to  see  me  safely  home  1 

Pie.  See  you  home  !  With  the  greatest  pleasure — after 
supper. 


22 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


[Act  1. 


Dach.  No,  now,  without  delay.  Give  me  your  arm. 

P  ie.  My  arm — why,  you  see — at  present — -just  wait  a 
moment.  [Putting  down  basket ,  fyc.,  on  table.]  I  really  am 
so  hungry,  and  I  was  sure  you  must  be  so,  too,  that  I 
thought  a  cold  roast  fowl,  and  a  pate,  and  a  glass  of  Bor¬ 
deaux  or  Chablis,  whichever  you  like  best — I  would  have 
brought  some  Champagne,  but — [aside 1 — but  had  no  more 
money. 

Puck.  Forme!  I  fear  that  you  have  put  yourself  to 
expense. 

Pie.  Oh,  don’t  mention  that,  pray,  madam,  I’m  only  so  * 
ry  that,  not  having  expected  company — [Running  to  the 
closet.]  I  have  two  plates,  however — indeed,  I  may  Lay 
three,  almost,  [showing  a  broken  one,]  and  two  glasses  and 
if  you  will  condescend  to  put  up  with — 

Puck.  Believe  me,  I  appreciate  your  kindness  ;  but  just 
at  this  moment  I  am  too  anxious,  too  alarmed,  to  fbel  hun¬ 
gry  ;  and  if  you  will  but  enable  me  to  reach  homi  in  safe¬ 
ty— 

Pie.  After  supper. 

P  uch.  No,  now,  now  !  [A  knock  at  the  door ,  l. 

Pie.  A  knock  at  my  door  I  Who  can  that  be  I 

Puck.  My  mask,  my  mask  !  [Looking  for  it . 

Pie.  It  can’t  be  Coquillard — and  I  know  nobody  else. 
[Knock  again.]  Come  in. 

Puck.  For  mercy’s  sake —  [Bolts  the  door. 

Pie.  Don’t  come  in!  [To  her.]  You’re  quite  right.  I 
beg  your  pardon.  [Aloudh\  Stop  a  minute. 

Puck.  Where  can  I  hide  I  tell  me,  tell  me  ! 

[Snatching  up  mask  and  domino. 

Pie.  In  here  ;  take  the  key.  I’ll  tap  when  they’re  gone. 
[Knocking  again.]  I’m  coming.  [Puchess  enters  bedchamber 
hastily.]  Now,  then.  [Opens  door ,  L. 

Enter  Duke,  l. 

Puke.  Sorry  to  intrude,  but — 

Pie.  [Aside.]  My  antagonist !  [Aloud.]  I  say,  your  watch 
must  be  fast. 

Puke.  Fast !  What  d’ye  mean  I 

Pie.  Why,  I  expected  you  in  the  morning — but  not  be¬ 
fore  day-break.  I’ts  only  half-past  three. 

Puke.  Expected  !  eh  I  [Looking  at  him.]  Ah  !  I’ve 


Scene  II.] 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  MIGHT. 


23 


seen  you  before — you  are  the  young  gentleman  who  chal¬ 
lenged  me,  I  think  !  You  gave  me  your  address,  I  be- V 
lieve  1 

Pie.  Of  course  I  did,  or  how  did  you  find  me  out. 

Duke.  Faith,  by  accident  on  this  occasion — for  I  had 
forgotten  all  about  our  quarrel. 

P  ie.  You  had  1  But  I  have  not,  sir,  and  I  insist — 

Duke.  Hush — stop.  I  am  pursued  by  the  police,  and 
have  taken  refuge  here.  If  you  make  a  disturbance,  or 
refuse  me  an  asylum  at  present,  I  shall  be  taken,  and  you 
may  then  go  without  the  satisfaction  you  require. 

Pie.  (r.)  That’s  all  very  well;  but  what  have  you  done 
to  be  pursued  by  the  police  1  Perhaps  you’re  a  pick¬ 
pocket  ? 

Duke.  No,  no,  don’t  be  alarmed;  I’m  quite  gentleman 
enough  for  your  purpose.  I  have  merely  been  giving 
chase  to  a  pretty  woman,  who  ran  away  from  me  ! 

Pie.  I’m  not  surprised  at  that — 

Duke.  Eh 

Pie.  I  say,  I’m  not  surprised  at  that. 

Duke.  At  my  giving  chase  % 

Pic.  No — at  her  running  away. 

Duke.  There’s  no  accounting  for  tastes,  certainly.  Well, 
she  succeeded  in  giving  me  the  slip,  and  whilst  with  a  friend 
I  was  hunting  about  for  some  trace  of  her,  the  police,  who 
had  been  set  upon  us — for  what  reason,  I  can’t  imagine,, 
as  we  had  been  guilty  of  nothing  more  than  a  common 
masquerade  frolic — came  up,  and  as  I  had  particular  rea 
sons  for  not  wishing  to  get  into  their  hands — 

Pie.  I’m  not  surprised  at  that. 

Duke.  Eh  1 

Pie.  I  say,  I’m  not  surprised  at  that. 

Duke.  I  declare,  you’re  quite  severe  this  morning — how¬ 
ever,  to  end  my  story — I  was  obliged  to  knock  down  one 
man,  while  my  friend  tripped  up  the  other,  and  then  took 
to  my  heels  with  a  whole  pack  after  me — seeing  a  dark 
passage  without  a  door  to  it,  just  as  I  turned  the  corner 
cf  this  street,  I  stepped  in  and  let  them  pass  ire  in  full  cry 
— and  then  softly  felt  my  way  up  six  pair  of  stairs,  till  I 
saw  a  light  from  under  this  door,  and  heard  voices — 

Pie.  Ah  !  you  heard  voices. 

Duke.  Yes — one  was  n  female’s.  You  are  married,  I 
suppose. 


24 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


[Act  I. 


Pie.  No,  sir,  I  am  not. 

Duke.  Not — oh,  then,  I  beg  you  a  thousand  pardons. 
I  wouldn’t  intrude  for  the  world.  If  you  would  just  have 
the  kindness  to  step  down  stairs — 

Pie.  Step  down  stairs  !  What  for  ? 

Duke.  To  see  if  the  coast  is  clear ;  and  if  so,  call  me 
a  coach. 

Pie.  Call  you  a  coach!  [Aside. J  Confound  his  impu¬ 
dence  !  He  wants  a  coach  now.  [Aloud.\  ’Sdeath,  sir  ! 
do  you  take  me  for  a  porter  ?  Go  and  call  a  coach  for 
yourself! 

Duke.  But  I  tell  you,  if  I  am  seen,  I  may  be  taken. 

Pie.  What  do  I  care — 

Duke.  How  ?  You  refuse  ? 

Pie.  Sir,  I’m  engaged.  I  have  company,  and  I  must 
request  you  to  walk  down  stairs. 

Duke.  Ah  !  you’ve  company — true — and  I  see  supper 
ready  for  two — and  you  are  not  married — eh  ? 

Pie.  Sir,  you  oblige  me  to  tell  you — 

Duke.  [Pinching  his  ear.]  Oh,  you  sly  rogue. 

Pie.  Be  quiet,  will  you.  Let  go  my  ear. 

Duke.  I  say,  is  she  pretty  ? — humph  ! 

Pie.  Yes — no — what’s  that  to  you,  sir  ? 

Duke.  And  young,  of  course — sixteen — eighteen — eh  ? 

Pie.  Was  there  ever— what’s  that  to  you?  I  shall  do 
something  desperate,  if  you  don’t  go  ! 

Duke.  I’ll  wager,  now — some  piquante  little  grisette — 

Pie.  Grisette  !  No,  sir,  she’s  not  a  grisette  !  [Aside. J 
Egad,  I’ll  frighten  him  !  [Aloud.]  She’s  a  lady  of  quality, 
sir,  and  if  you  don’t  go  directly,  she — 

Duke.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  A  lady  of  quality  ;  and  fond  of  youf 
my  dear  fellow  !  She  must  be  a  person  of  high  rank,  no 
doubt.  Perhaps  I  have  the  honour  of  her  acquaintance 
May  I  beg  an  introduction? 

Pie.  He’s  not  frightened  at  all.  [Aloud.]  Will  you  get 
out  of  the  house  ? 

Duke.  Directly,  if  you’ll  fetch  me  a  coach.  Seriously, 
I’ve  no  wish  to  disturb  your  happiness,  my  good  friend, 
but  I  won’t  stir  till  a  coach  is  at  the  door,  I  tell  you  fairly. 

[Sits. 

Pie.  [Aside. ]  He  has  sat  down  !  He  has  positively  sat 
down  !  I  don’t  think  I  could  fling  him  down  stairs,  if  I 


Scene  II.] 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


25 


tried  ;  and  the  noise  would  disturb  everybody  in  the  house 
— and  then  she  misrht  be  seen.  1  do  believe  I’d  better  set 
him  a  coach-  [Aloud.]  If  I  get  a  coach,  will  you  go  quietly 
and  instantly  I 

Duke.  I  will,  and  fight  you  as  soon  as  you  please  after 
day-break. 

Pie.  You’ll  tell  me  where  I  shall  find  you,  then? 

Duke.  Certainly. 

Pie.  And  you  won’t  attempt  to  enter  that  room  while 
I’m  gone  ? 

Duke.  Oh  !  She’s  in  that  room,  is  she  ? 

[  Comes  down ,  l.  c. 

Pie.  That’s  no  answer  to  my  question  ! 

Duke.  On  my  honour  as  a  gentleman  ! 

Pie.  I’ll  go  and  get  you  a  coach. 

Duke.  Bravo ! 

Pie.  [Aside.]  She  has  locked  herself  in — and  I  shall  be 
back  in  two  minutes — I’ll  find  a  coach  for  him  soon  enough, 
I  warrant  me  !  [Exit,  l. 

Duke.  Ha,  ha  ! — It  must  be  confessed,  my  visit  here  was 
rather  mal-a-propos.  Poor  devil  ! — I  shouldn’t  have  liked 
it  myself — to  be  sent  for  a  coach — -just  as  he  was  about  to 
sit  down  to  supper — tete-a-tete — and — ha,  ha,  ha! — with 
a  lady  of  quality!  Great  quality,  no  doubt — a  grocer’s 
wife,  or  perhaps  a  doctor’s  !  Faith,  I  don’t  know  why  I 
should  say  that,  though — ladies  of  quality  have  been  known 
to  take  odd  fancies.  Is  there  no  getting  a  peep  at  the  wo¬ 
man — I’m  curious  to  ascertain — I  promised  I  wouldn’t 
enter  that  room — but  perhaps  I  might  lure  her  out  of  it — 
suppose  I  just  tapped  at  the  door — she  might  think  me 
gone,  and  that  it  was  her  friend — I’ll  try,  by  Cupid  ! 
f  Be  steals  softly  to  the  door  of  the  chamber ,  r.,  and  taps.] 
No  movement — I’ll  try  again.  [Tapping  again.]  The  key 
turns ! 

[The  Duchess  opens  the  door  and  comes  out  cautiously , 
the  Duke  receding  behind  the  door  as  she  enters  ;  she 
has  on  her  mask  and  domino. 

Duch.  [  Catching  sight  of  him  as  she  turns.]  Ah  ! 

[Endeavours  to  re-enter  the  chamber,  but  the  Duke  has 
pushed  to  the  door,  and  stands  before  it. 

Duke.  My  pink  domino,  by  all  that’s  fortunate  !  [<S%d 
attempts  to  escape,  he  holds  herk]  No,  no,  you’re  caught  now 
my  charming  runaway  ! 


i 


26  THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT.  [Act  i. 

Duch.  \ Aside.]  My  husband  ! — I  shall  die  ! 

Duke.  Don’t  be  alarmed  ! — I’m  the  most  discreet  of 
men  !  Let  me  see  that  beautiful  face — for  beautiful  1  am 
sure  it  is — and  be  assured,  that  if  I  recognize  the  wife  or 
daughter  of  the  best  friend  I  have  in  the  world,  I  am  too 

O  # 

well  bred  to  mention  it  to  anybody. 

[  Trying  to  take  off  her  mask. 

Duck.  Sir!  [Struggling  with  him. J  I  entreat — l  implore! 

Duke.  Oh,  you  may  alter  your  voice  as  much  as  you 
please — it  would  be  useless,  if  I  had  ever  heard  it  before. 
I’ve  an  extraordinary  quick  ear  and  eye  !  A  person  I  have 
once  seen  or  conversed  with,  I  should  detect  through  any 
disguise. 

Duck.  [Aside. ]  Merciful  powers  ! 

[Draws  the  domino  closer  round  her. 

Duke.  And  I  am  therefore  certain,  that  till  this  happy 
niojit,  we  have  never  met. 

O  7 

Duck.  [Aside.]  Ha  !  Is  he  serious  ]  Does  he  really 
not  suspect — 

Duke.  So  let  me  see  your  face,  if  but  to  convince  me. 

Duck.  If  you  are  a  gentleman,  forbear  ! 

Duke.  Upon  my  honour,  you  are  a  very  mysterious  per¬ 
sonage  !  You  have  either  a  most  especial  and  singular 
horror  of  me,  or  you  have  some  dreadfully  jealous  hus¬ 
band,  or  tyrant  father,  of  whom  you  stand  in  awe.  May 
I  ask  if  the  old  gentleman  whose  arm  you  hung  so  fondly 
on  at  the  ball,  stands  in  either  of  those  relations  to  you  ? 

Duck, ,  [Aside.]  What  shall  I  say  h  [Aloud.]  He  is  my 
uncle,  sir. 

Duke.  Your  uncle  !  indeed!  [Aside.]  Dr.  Druggendraft 
her  uncle.  She  little  dreams  I  know  him.  [Aloud.]  And 
the  young  man  in  whose  chamber  I  find  you  is — your  cou 
sin,  no  doubt  I 

Duch.  He  is — you  are  right,  sir. 

Duke.  I  thought  it  must  be  so.  And  you  often  come 
and  sup  with  your  cousin  I 

Ducli.  [Eagerly.]  Indeed,  I  came  not  to  sup  with  him, 
and  it  is  the  first  time  I  ever  was  in  this  house. 

Duke.  Oh,  come,  come  !  I  have  no  right  to  ask  ques¬ 
tions ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  I  am  not  bound  to  believe — 

j Duch.  I  declare,  solemnly  ! 

Duke.  Nay,  if  you  wish  to  prove  the  truth  of  what  you 
assert,  there  is  but  one  way — 


Scene  II.] 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


27 


Duck,  And  that  is — 

Duke.  To  sup  with  me,  my  angel ! 

Duck,  How ! 

Duke.  Charming  creature,  whoever  you  are,  do  you 
believe  in  love  at  first  sight  ? 

Duck .  No. 

Duke.  You  are  wrong,  then.  I  swear,  even  the  little 
that  I  have  seen  of  you  has  bewitched  me  !  From  the  in¬ 
stant  I  set  eyes  upon  you. at  the  Masquerade,  1  felt  that 
my  heart  was  irrevocably  yours  ! 

Duck.  [Aside.]  So,  so,  my  faithful  husband  !  Oh,  if  J 
dared ! 

Duke.  Come — supper  is  ready,  you  see,  and  I  a»m  anx 
ious  to  believe  you.  Let  us  sit  down. 

Duck.  What,  in  the  absence  of — 

Duke.  Your  cousin'?  To  be  sure — it  will  be  the  more 
agreeable.  This  foolish  young  fellow  is  not  worthy  of  you 
— you  must  know  he  is  not.  Transfer  your  affection  to 
me — I  will  return  it  with  ardour  !  Reign  supreme  in  this 
heart,  of  which  you  are  the  chosen  sovereign  ! 

Duck.  [Aside.]  The  traitor !  And  could  he  dare,  after 
this,  to  upbraid  me  ]  [Aloud.]  But  I  have  no  affection  for 
this  young  man,  sir ;  and  1  repeat,  this  is  the  first  time  I 
have  entered  these  doors. 

Duke.  Sit  down  to  supper,  and  I  will  believe  everything 
you  say.  [Gently  forcing  her  into  a  chair ,  r.,  sits  l.  of  ta¬ 
ble,  and  kisses  her  hand. 

Duck.  Well,  if  you  insist!  [Aside.]  Oh,  Duke,  Duke, 
what  a  lesson  do  you  deserve  ! 

Duke .  Allow  me.  [Helping  her,  then  himself]  By  no 
means  a  bad  dish  !  Won’t  you  take  off  your  mask  ? 

Duck.  No — lymake  it  a  condition,  on  my  part,  to  pie- 
serve  my  incognita ! 

Duke.  Be  it  so,  then.  And  yet,  as  you  are  unknown  to 
me  personally — for  I’ll  wager  you  are  not  a  resident  in 
Paris-— I  fancy  I  can  detect  an  accent — 

Duck.  You  are  right.  [Aside.]  Let  me  endeavour  to  mis¬ 
lead  him  altogether.  [Aloud. ]  I  will  acknowledge  thus 
much  to  you.  My  husband  is  a  draper  at  Dijon.  It  was 
a  match  of  inclination  on  my  part,  and  I  am  still  fonder 
of  him  than  he  deserves. 

Duke.  Ah  !  you  should  conquer  that  weakness,  and  treat 
him  as  he  deserves. 


28  THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT.  [Act  1. 

Duck.  He  may  drive  me  to  such  a  step,  should  he  con¬ 
tinue  in  his  present  dissolute  courses. 

Duke.  Is  he  in  Paris  1 

Duck.  1  have  reason  to  believe  he  is,  though  his  busi¬ 
ness  requires  his  presence  elsewhere.  I  came  on  a  visit 
to  my  uncle,  and  being  induced  by  curiosity  to  go  to  the 
Masquerade,  was  separated  from  him  in  the  crowd,  pur¬ 
sued  by  you,  and  protected  by  this  young — by  my  cou¬ 
sin. 

Duke.  Ah  !  by  your  cousin — you  had  almost  forgotten 
the  relationship.  We’ll  drink  his  health.  [Pours  out  wine 
for  Loth .]  And  now,  confidence  for  confidence.  I  am  a 
gentleman  of  Normandy.  My  father  spent  a  fortune  in 
the  king’s  service,  and  at  the  end  of  forty  years,  received 
through  the  royal  munificence,  a  pension,  on  which  it  "was 
impossible  to  exist.  He  died,  poor  old  man,  and  I  came 
to  Paris  to  urge  the  claims  of  the  family.  My  journey  has 
been  successful — I  have  found  favour  at  Court — 1  am  pro¬ 
mised  a  regiment,  and  with  that  and  my  wife’s  little  for¬ 
tune — 

Duck.  Your  wife! 

Duke.  Oh,  yes,  I’m  married  also — to  a  very  good,  quiet 
sort  of  person,  who  never  troubles  her  head  about  my  pro¬ 
ceedings.  I,  like  yourself,  was  induced  by  curiosity  to  visit 
the  Masquerade — saw  you,  and  was  instantly  smitten  with 
an  uncontrollable  passion — followed  you,  as  you  are  aware 
— was  followed  in  my  turn  by  the  police,  and  took  refuge 
here,  in  obedience  to  a  secret  presentiment  that  here  I 
should  find  you  ! 

Duck.  [Aside.]  Frightened  as  I  am,  I  can  scarcely  con¬ 
trol  my  desire  to  burst  out  laughing  in  his  impudent  face. 
[Aloud.]  How  extraordinary  !  And  you  are  really  trying 
to  obtain  a  regiment — 

Duke.  Only  to  give  your  husband  the  contract  for  cloth¬ 
ing  it !  Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

Duck.  Ridiculous  ! 

Duke.  Nay,  I  did  not  say  so  of  your  story. 

Duck.  But  mine  is  true,  sir. 

Duke.  Well,  mine  is  not,  except  as  regards  my  love  foi 
you  ;  in  token  of  which,  I  beg  you  to  accept  this  ring! 

[  Taking  a  ring  off  his  own  Jingr **,  and  placing  it  on  the 
Duchess's. 


Scene  II.] 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  MC-HT. 


29 


Duch.  [Aside.]  It  shall  be  a  token  of  thy  infidelity  ! 

Duke.  And  in  return,  grant  me  one  kiss ! 

Duch.  Sir  ! 

Duke.  Oh,  a  kiss  given  by  a  gentleman  of  Normandy  to 
the  wife  of  a  draper  of  Dijon,  can  compromise  nobody. 

Duch.  Let  me  go,  I  insist!  [ Struggling. 

Duke.  Nay,  a  kiss  1  will  have  ! 

[ Kisses  her  as  the  door  opens. 

Enter  Pierre,  l. 

Pie.  The  coacli  is  here — Ah  ! 

Duke.  Confound  the  booby  ! 

Duch.  [Aside.]  How  will  this  end  I 

Pie.  Very  pretty — very  pretty,  upon  my  word !  [Aside.] 
And  1,  who  was  afraid  even  to  kiss  her  hand  !  [Aloud  and 
fiercely.]  I  thought,  sir,  you  promised,  upon  your  honour, 
not  to  enter  that  room  I 

Duke.  And  I  kept  my  promise,  sir. 

Pie.  What!  Do  you  mean  to  say  she  came  out  on  pur¬ 
pose,  then — and — oh — well — I  declare!  [ Crosses  to  the 
Table ,  and  looking  at  supper.]  If  they  hav’n’t  supped,  ac¬ 
tually  supped,  both  of  them,  without  me  !  Well,  if  I  didn’t 
see  it  with  mine  own  eyes — I  couldn’t  have  believed  it 
possible. 

Duch.  [Aside.]  How  can  I  explain  to  him  ! 

Pie  And  do  you  think  I  shall  put  up  with  this  quietly1? 
No,  sir!  [Violently.]  I’ll  have  satisfaction  here,  upon  the 
instant!  One  of  us  shall  fall  before  the  faithless  creature’s 
face  ! 

Duch.  Faithless  !  [Aside. ]  What  will  the  Duke  imagine ! 
[To  Pierre.]  How  dare  you — 

Pie.  Don’t  talk  to  me  !  I’m  desperate  !  Eat  my  sup¬ 
per  together,  whilst  I  was  running  all  over  Paris  in  the  rain 
to  get  him  a  coach  ! 

Duke.  (l).  [Aside.]  I  must  stop  this  fellow’s  mouth.  [To 
him.  1  Hear  me — 

Pie.  I  have  no  swords — but  knives  for  daggers — 

f  'Takes  them. 

Duch.  Hold,  madman!  [Aside  to  Pierre.)  ’Tis  my  hus¬ 
band  ! 

Pie.  [Thunderstruck.]  Eh  ! 

Duke.  [Aside  to  him. j  Hark  in  your  ear — I  am  the  Duke 
de  Chartres. 


30 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


Act  1 


Pie.  [ Overwhelmed — aside.)  The  king’s  nephew  and  her 
husband  !  Oh,  what  will  become  of  me.  The — he — she 
— my  head  spins  round — I  must  take  the  liberty  of  sitting 
down  for  a  few  minutes.  [Sits,  c. 

Duke.  Be  calm,  young  man  ;  you  surely  must  see  the 
impropriety  of  making  all  this  disturbance  before  a  fait 
lady,  who  has  done  you  the  honour  of  mounting  six  pair 
of  stairs,  for  your  sake. 

Pie.  [Aside.)  If  he  should  ever  know  she’s  his  wife  ! 
I’m  a  lost  creature  !  The  Bastile  for  life  !  Perhaps  the 
! 

Duke.  Positively,  you  are  much  to  blame;  see  how  you 
have  terrified  her.  [Apjn caching  her.)  Compose  yourself, 
madam.  [Aside  to  her.)  Where  can  I  see  you  again  ] 
[ Aloud  to  Pierre.)  And  believe  me,  you  are  unjust  to  call 
her  faithless;  for  it  was  I  who  lured  her  out  of  your  cham¬ 
ber,  and  insisted  upon  her  supping  with  me.  By  Cupid, 
you  are  a  lucky  fellow,  and  ought  to  be  perfectly  contented 
— to  be  loved  by  a  beautiful  woman  of  quality,  as  you  say 
she  is — 

Pie.  I — no — I  don’t  say  any  such  thing — that  is — I  don’t 
know  who  she  is.  I  never  saw  her  before,  and  she  doesn’t 
love  me,  I  assure  you  !  [Aside)  Oh,  dear !  oh,  dear  ! 

Duke.  Nay,  nay,  I  have  no  right — it  was  your  own  con¬ 
fession,  and  so  farewell !  I  leave  you  together. 

Pie.  No,  no,  I  object.  [Holding  him. 

Duke.  You  object — to  what] 

Duch.  [Aside  to  Pierre.)  Let  him  go,  for  Heaven’s  sake ! 

Pie.  [ Aside  to  her.)  Let  him  go  !  What,  for  him  to 
fancy — Don’t  tell  me — he  shall  do  no  such  thing !  [Aloud.) 
Sir,  if  you  quit  this  room,  I  shall  go  with  you. 

Duke.  You  ] 

Pie.  Yes,  me  !  I  insist  upon  your  taking  me  with  you! 

Duck.  [Aside.)  And  what  is  to  become  of  me  1 

Pie.  Eh!  Well,  then,  all  three,  w-e’ll  all  three  go  to¬ 
gether  ;  but  I  won’t  be  left  alone  with — with  this  lady. 

Duke.  His  jealousy  has  disordered  his  wits. 

Duch.  [Aside.)  In  his  alarm,  he  will  betray  me  !  Ah, 
he  said  there  was  a  coach  at  the  door!  If  I  could  but 
contrive.  [Aside  to  Duke)  Lock  him  up  in  that  room,  and 
I  will  accept  your  protection  home. 

Duke.  (Aside.)  Ah,  delicious!  ( Aloud  to  Pierre.)  One 
word,  my  good  friend,  with  you  alone — 


»SCE3E  III.] 


TKF.  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


31 


Pie.  Alone — where  ? 

Duke.  Any  where.  In  this  chamber — 

[Leading  him  towards  Bedchamber ,  r. 
Pie.  Well,  but— 

Duke.  Not  a  syllable  ;  here,  go  in — ( Pushes  him  in.) — 
and  stay  there.  ( Pulling  key  out  of  door,  shutting  the  door 
suddenly ,  and  bolting  the  door  on  the  outside  ;  at  the 
same  moment ,  the  Duchess,  who  has  watched  her  op¬ 
portunity,  slips  out  by  the  outer  door,  l.,  and  locks  it 
audibly  on  the  outside ,  leaving  the  Duke  a  prisoner 
in  his  turn. 

Duke.  Now* then ! — [Turning.]  Gone  !—  [Runs  to  door ,  l., 
and  trying  to  open  it.] — and  the  door  locked  ! — The  cun¬ 
ning  gipsy  ! — [Trying  to  force  it  with  his  foot.]  Confound 
the  door ! 

Pie.  [LTammering  at  the  other  door.]  Let  me  out,  let  me 
out ! 

Duke.  If  from  this  window  I  could  hail  the  coachman. 
[Runs  and.  opens  the  window.]  ’Sdeath,  he’s  driving  off! — 
Hallo! — Hey  ! — Coach  !  As  I  live,  she’s  in  it !  Outge- 
neralled  every  way  ! 

[Noise  of  footsteps  ascending  the  stairs,  followed  by  a 
loud  knocking  at  the  door. 

Duke.  Who’s  there  I 

[Voice  without .]  Open,  in  the  King’s  name. 

Duke.  ’Tis  the  Guard  !  How  to  escape  them — 

Pie.  [  Within.]  Let  me  out !  let  me  out ! 

Duke.  Ha ! 

[Runs  and,  unlocks  the  Bedchamber  door,  and  blows  out 
the  candle,  as  the  Guard  force  open  the  door  from 
without,  and  hastily  enter ,  l.  Pierre  rushes  out  of 
the  bedchamber,  r.,  and  is  seized  by  them  The 
Duhe  slips  out  unobserved,  l. 

OJJicer.  You  are  our  prisoner! 

Pie.  What  for  ?  What  have  I  done  ? 

Offi.  Silence  ! — March  ! 

FINALE. — Officer. — (“  Garde  a  vous .”) 

March  away,  march  away. 

We’ve  orders  you  to  seize  on  ; 

But  whether  ’tis  for  treason, 

Or  for  murder,  we  can’t  say. 

March  away,  march  away. 


32 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


[Act  II. 


Pierre. 

The  treason’s  against  me,  sir, 
And  murder  it  will  be,  sir  ; 

If  I  for  it  must  pay. 
Well-a-day,  well-a-day! 

Chorus. 

March  away,  &c. 

END  OF  ACT  I. 


ACT  II. 

Scene  I. — Ante-chamber  in  the  Palais  Royal. —  On  r.,  the 
door  of  the  Apartment  of  the  Duchess  de  Chartres — on 
l.,  a  smaller  door ,  supposed  to  lead  to  a  private  Stair¬ 
case.  At  the  bach,  a  'pair  of  folding  doors ,  opening  on  a 
Gallery. 

The  Duchess  opens  the  door ,  l.,  from  private  Staircase , 
peeps  in,  then  enters  quickly.  She  has  on  her  Domino , 
and  the  Mash  in  her  hand. 

Duch.  Fortune  be  praised,  no  one  yet  stirring!  I  have 
arrived  safe,  undiscovered — what  an  adventure — and  what 
an  escape  !  The  Duke  in  Paris — at  the  Masquerade — and 
oh,  Philip,  Philip  !  mine  was  an  act  of  folly — of  impru¬ 
dence — but  yours — yet  would  the  world  pass  with  a  smile 
over  yoir  infidelity,  and  visit  my  childish  frolic  with  the 
severest  condemnation. 

AIR. — Duchess. — (“J’  etais  bien  jeune  encore.”) 

Yielding  to  each  temptation, 

Man  in  his  reason  triumph  may, 

Whilst  poor  woman’s  reputation, 

One  light  word  can  cast  away. 

Such  is  the  regulation  ! 

Could  we  with  men  change  places, 

How  much  our  conduct  their’s  would  shame 
p  ar,  in  every  hundred  cases, 

Ninety-niue  would  do  the  same  ! 

At  a  rough  calculation  ! 

r  Exit  into  her  own  apartment,  r 


Scene  I.J 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


33 


Enter  Dr.  Druggendraft ,  from  folding  doors ,  n  c. 

Dr.D.  Six  o’clock  !  Broad  daylight,  and  yet  1.0  news 
of  the  Duchess.  Horrible  suspense !  if  her  absence  is  once 
known  to  the  household,  I  am  a  ruined  man  !  I  said  some¬ 
thing  terrible  would  happen — I  knew  it,  I  felt  it ! — and 
poor  Ma’lle  Duval,  she’ll  be  dismissed  also — and  then  I 
must  stifle  my  ardent  passion,  as  she  will  have  neither  sa¬ 
lary  nor  influence,  and  consequently  it  would  be  the  height 
of  imprudence  to  make  her  Madame  Druggendraft.  Ah  ! 
she  is  here. 

Enter  Ma’lle  Duval,  from  folding  doors ,  r.  c. 

What  news,  dearest  Ma’lle  %  Has  the  Duchess  yet  re¬ 
turned  % 

Ma’lle  D.  Alas,  no  !  I  have  seen  nothing — heard  nothing 
of  the  Duchess;  but  I  have  just  been  told  that  the  man 
is  arrested. 

Dr.  D.  The  man  ! — what  man  ? 

Ma’lle  D.  A  man  who  was  seen  carrying  a  lady  in  a 
pink  domino  through  the  streets  about  the  time  we  missed 
Her  Royal  Highness. 

Dr.  D.  Carrying  her — carrying  a  princess  through  the 
streets  ! — what  desecration  !  what  profanation  !  My  dearest 
Ma’lle  Duval,  we  are  lost — utterly  undone  ! — it  must  all 
be  made  public. 

Ma’lle  D.  I  trust  not — the  Lieutenant  of  the  Police 
himself  is  not  aware  of  the  name  or  rank  of  the  lady — he 
was  merely  ordered  to  trace  and  arrest  the  persons  who 
were  guilty  of  an  outrage  that  caused  a  disturbance  at  the 
Masquerade — so,  if  the  Duchess  has  but  escaped  — 

Dr.D.  But  the  man  may  know  who  she  is,  and  name 
her. 

Ma’lle  j D.  He  wouldn’t,  for  his  own  sake ;  it  would 
make  the  affair  more  serious  for  him.  But  you  must  ma¬ 
nage  to  see  him,  and  interrogate  him  directly.  Hark  ! 
there’s  a  foot  on  the  private  stairs  now ! — it  must  be  the 
Duchess  ! 

Dr.  D.  Has  no  one  else  a  key  of  that  entrance  ? 

Ma’lle  D.  Nobody  but  the  Duke,  win  is  at  Compeigne 
with  the  army. 

Dr.  D.  Then  it  must  be  she.  ( Running  to  the  door  as  it 


34 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


[Act  II. 

oj)ens.)  Thank  goodness!  your  Royal  Highness  has  re¬ 
turned  at  last ! 

Enter  Duke,  l.  u.  e. 

Duke.  “At  last!” 

Dr.  D.  8f  Malle  D.  [ Aside .]  The  Duke  ! 

Duke.  Did  you  expect  me,  then,  Doctor  !  You  are  si¬ 
lent  !  What’s  the  matter  ] — what  has  happened — have  I 
been  sent  for,  and  passed  the  express  on  the  road  ]  Why 
don’t  you  speak,  Ma’lle  Duval,  are  you  dumb  too  ] 

Malle  D.  (l.)  Me,  Monseigneur  !  I  haven’t  said  any¬ 
thing. 

Duke.  Precisely  so — and  it  is  therefore  my  request  that 
you  would  say  something  in  explanation  of  this  strange 
embarrassment,  and  of  your  appearance  here  at  this  unu¬ 
sual  hour. 

Dr.  D.  Monseigneur — the  fact  is — the  Duchess — as 
Ma’lle  Duval  will  inform  your  Royal  Highness. — [Aside 
to  her .]  Bear  me  out — we  can’t  be  worse  off  for  a  lie  or 
two. 

Duke.  Well,  sir — the  Duchess  I 

Dr.  D.  Her  Royal  Highness,  I  regret  to  say,  was  rather 
indisposed  last  night — and  I  was  anxious  to  hear  from 
Ma’lle  Duval  the  earliest  report  this  morning. 

Duke.  Indisposed  !  I  must  see  her  instantly. 

Dr.  D.  [Aside.]  Ah,  the  devil !  [Aloud.]  No,  no,  Mon¬ 
seigneur,  do  not  alarm  yourself — Her  Royal  Highness  is 
much  better — and  has  just  fallen  into  the  most  tranquil 
sleep.  If  I  might  advise —  [A  hell  rings,  r. 

Malle  D.  [Aside.]  The  Duchess’  bell  !  She  is  safe, 
then  !  [Exit,  r. 

Duke.  Why,  that’s  her  bell !  She  is  awake,  you  hear  ! 

Dr.  D.  [A  side.]  Returned  !  is  it  possible  ! 

Duke .  1  may  go  now! 

Dr.  D.  Pardon  me,  Monseigneur — condescend  to  wait 
one  minute — till  Ma’lle  Duval  has  prepared  her  Royal 
Highness  for  your  sudden  arrival. 

Duke.  Then  she  did  not  know  you  had  sent] 

Dr.  D.  No — a  private  messenger  of  my  own — there  was 
no  occasion  to — it  was  scarcely  necessary — indeed — I  may 
say — in  point  of  fact — [Aside. ]  I  have  not  the  slightest  no¬ 
tion  of  what  I  am  saying. 


Scene  I.] 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


35 


Duke.  [Aside  i}  There  is  sorr.e  mystery  here.  If  the 
Duchess  was  ill — how  came  he  at  the  Masquerade  last 
night  I  \Aloud.\  It  is  singular  encugh,  that  I  should  have 
suddenly  determined  on  a  visit  to  Paris  at  such  a  moment. 
I  have  travelled  all  night  to  give  the  Duchess  an  agreeable 
surprise. 

Dr.  j D.  [Boivingi}  Your  Royal  Highness  is  a  pattern  for 
all  married  men. 

Duke.  Ahem  ! — and  you,  Doctor,  for  all  household  phy¬ 
sicians — for  you  appear  to  have  been  up  all  night  also — 
you  look  pale  and  harassed. 

Dr.  D.  How  could  I  sleep,  while  her  Royal  Highness 
was  suffering  ? 

Duke.  [Aside.}  The  old  hypocrite  !  [Aloud.}  And  through 
the  music  and  noise  of  the  Masquerade  ! 

Dr.  D.  [Aside.}  The  Masquerade  !  [Aloud.}  The  Mas¬ 
querade  ]  oh,  yes — true — there  was  a  Masquerade  last 
night — in  the  theatre — I  did  hear  occasionally — in  my 
apartments — they  adjoin. 

Duke.  I  thought  you  might— in  your  apartments.  [Aside. J 
I  shall  dismiss  this  fellow. 

Dr.  D.  [Aside. J  I  wish  he  had  not  mentioned  the  Mas¬ 
querade. 

Enter  Ma’lle  Duval,  r. 

Ma’lle  D.  Her  Royal  Highness  is  anxious  to  see  Mon¬ 
seigneur. 

Duke.  I  come.  Doctor,  you  must  really  take  more  care 
of  yourself — you  are  too  assiduous — too  much  devoted  to 
your  art,  and  to  your  patients — many  such  nights  as  the 
last,  would  destroy  you  ! 

[Exeunt  Duke  and  Ma’lle  Duval ,  r. 

Dr.  D.  He  never  spoke  a  truer  word  in  his  life  ! — 
many  such  nights  ! — Another  such  would  be  the  death  ot 
me  ! 

Re-enter  Ma’lle  Duval,  r. 

Well,  well, — she  was  really  there,  then  I  Tell  me  quick 
—what  has  happened  I 

Ma’lle  D.  I  cannot  stop — take  this  order,  and  get  the 
young  man  discharged  whom  they  have  arrested.  It  is 
her  Royal  Highness’  wish  that  he  should  be  set  at  liberty 
immediately,  and  treated  with  the  greatest  kindness. 


36 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  MU  I HT. 


[Act  II 

Dr.  D.  Bless  me  ! — but  did  you  tell  the  Duchess  I  said 
she  had  been  ill. 

Mu’ lie  D.  Yes,  yes,  she.  will  bear  you  out.  Go  and  do 
as  1  tell  you — 1  must  search  for  a  trinket  she  has  lost-  *• 
perhaps  on  the  private  staircase. 

[Exit  by  small  door,  l.  u.  e. 

Dr.  D.  Set  the  yuung  man  at  liberty,  and  treat  him  with 
the  greatest  kindness  !  With  all  my  heart;  but  if  I  had 
not  the  highest  opinion  of  the  Duchess,  I  confess,  such  an 
order,  under  such  circumstances — ah,  there  goes  the  pi i- 
soner.  \  Pierre  is  seen  passing  along  the  Gallery,  guarded.\ 
Stop,  stop  !  [To  Guards,  without  noticing  Pierre.]  Here’s 
an  order  for  you  to  return — I  will  answer  for  that  young 
gentleman’s  appearance,  if  necessary.  [Ea’t  Guards.]  Sir, 
\to  Pierre,  and  bowing  very  low  as  he  advances ,] — I  have  the 
honour  to  convey  to  you  the  commands  of — [recognising 
Him.  ]  Pierre  Pal  Hot ! 

Pie.  Why,  didn’t  you  know  me,  uncle  ? 

Dr.  D.  Pierre  Palliot ! — Is  it  possible  1  There  must  bo 
some  mistake  ! — this  cannot  be  the  person — 

Pie.  Then  you  did  not  order  me  to  be  arrested  ? 

Dr.  D.  I  ! — no — 

Pie.  And  you  will  let  me  go,  then  ? 

Dr.  D.  Yes — that  is,  no — if — [Aside. J  Bless  me  ! — It’s 
very  awkward — if  be  should  be  the  man  1 — I  must  not 
compromise  the  Duchess.  [Aloud. J  Do  you  know  why  you 
were  arrested  1 

Pie.  For  carrying  a  lady  from  the  Opera  House  in  a 
pink  domino. 

Dr.  D.  But  you  didn’t — 

Pie.  Yes,  I  did,  but — 

Dr.  D.  You  did  !  Hush! — hold  your  tongue! — don’t 
acknowledge  it  for  the  world  !  There’s  no  dungeon  too 
deep  for  you,  if  it  were  known. 

Pie.  Why,  it  was  at  her  own  request ! 

Dr.  D.  At  her  own  request ! — impossible !  [Aside.]  And 
jet,  when  I  reflect — her  singular  determination  to  go  to  the 
ball— her  order  now  to  treat  him  with  the  greatest  kindness 
— and — ay,  to  be  sure — this  handkerchief,  which  she  threw 
*Vom  her  carriage. 

O  r . 

Pie.  [Seeing  it.]  Ha! — that’s  mine — give  it  me  back. 

TiU'  jy  for  t]ie  wQj-ltP  Rash  young  man — if  found 


37 


Scene  I. J  THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 

on  you,  it  would  be  your  destruction. 

[  Putting  it  hastily  into  his  pocket  again. 

Pie.  It  would  1 

Dr.  D.  Yes,  yes — but  you  must  not  stay  here — you  may 
be  seen — interrogated.  Come  with  me — you  shall  remain 

CJ  %1 

concealed  in  my  apartment  for  the  present — anything  you 
require  shall  be  provided  for  you. 

Pie.  My  dear  uncle,  all  this  anxiety  on  my  account! 
You  have  repented,  then,  your  ill  usage  of  me.  Let  me 
embrace  you. 

Dr.D.  There,  there,  that’ll  do.  There’s  no  time  to  be 
lost — come  quickly,  before  the  Duke — ha  !  he’s  here. 

Enter  Duke,  r. 

Duke.  [  Seeing  Pierre.]  Hey-day — my  friend  from  the 
Rue  de  L’Echelle  here,  and  with  the  Doctor! 

Dr.  j D.  [ Aside  to  Pierre.]  Steal  off — steal  off. 

Pie.  [Aside.]  It’s  no  use — he  has  seen  me. 

Duke.  [Aside.)  I  must  give  him  a  hint  not  to  know  me. 
[Aloud.)  Who  is  that  young  man,  Doctor  I 
Dr.  D.  This  young  man,  Monseigneur — 

Duke.  Yes — what  does  he  here  ]  [Crossing,  and  aside  to 
Pierre.)  We  have  never  met  before,  mind. 

Dr.D.  He  does  nothing  here,  Monseigneur — he  only- 
just — 

Pie.  I  only  just  came  to  see  my  uncle,  Monseigneur. 
Duke.  Your  uncle! 

Dr.  D.  [Aside.)  Confound  him  !  What  did  he  say  that 
for  ] 

Duke.  Who  is  your  uncle  ] 

P  ie.  Dr.  Druggendraft — my  mother’s  brother — my  mo¬ 
ther  married  Michel  Palliot — now  blacksmith  and  farrier 
at  Beauvais. 

Dr.  D.  [Aside.)  Blisters  on  his  tongue  !  [Aloud.)  I  beg 
your  Royal  Highness  to  believe  it  was  entirely  without  my 
consent  that  she  formed  so  degrading  an  alliance. 

Duke.  The  Doctor  your  uncle  f  [Aside.)  Why,  then,  the 
woman’s  story  was  true,  perhaps,  and  I  may  still  trace  her. 
[Aloud.)  Have  you  any  other  nephew,  doctor] 

Dr.D.  Not  that  I  know  of,  Monseigneur. 

Pie.  No,  I  am  an  only  son. 

Duke.  Ay,  but  you  have  a  niece,  p,T  rhaps — 


38 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


[Act  II 


Pie.  No,  I  have  no  sister. 

Duke.  No,  but  you  may  have  a  cousin  by  some  other 
sister  or  brother  of  the  doctor — or  of  your  father. 

Pie.  No,  I  have  no  cousin. 

Duke.  Indeed!  [Aside.)  So,  so — the  young  rogue,  then, 
has  actually  been  cutting  out  his  uncle  ! — a  capital  joke  '< 
(Aloud.)  Well,  Doctor,  as  your  only  nephew,  this  young 
man  is  entitled  to  your  protection,  and  out  of  regard  for 
you,  I  shall  accord  him  mine. 

Pie.  Oh,  Monseigneur  !  [Aside.)  If  he  should  ever  find 
out ! 

Dr.  D.  [Aside.)  He,  too  ! — and  of  all  men  !  [Aloud.\ 
Oh,  Monseigneur  1 — [Aside.)  If  he  had  the  slightest  suspi¬ 
cion  ! 

Duke.  It  is  my  pleasure  that  he  shall  remain  in  the  Pa 
lace — we  will  see  what  can  be  done  for  him. 

Pie.  [Aside.)  Here’s  a  piece  of  luck  ! 

Dr.  D.  [Aside.)  Poor  Duke!  Poor  innocent  man  !  It’s 
quite  shocking  to  think  of  it  ! 

Duke.  [Aside  to  Pierre.)  You  know,  of  course,  where  to 
find  your  fair  friend  again  1 

Pie.  No — do  you  ? 

Duke.  Not  I.  She  played  me  a  rare  trick — went  off  in 
the  coach  you  fetched  for  me  !  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  I  had  to 
walk  through  the  wet !  Ha,  ha,  ha  i 

Pie.  No,  had  you,  though  I  Ha,  ha,  ha!  (Aside.)  He 
doesn’t  suspect — it’s  all  right — my  fortune’s  made  !  (A- 
loud.)  Ha,  ha  !  Capital ! 

Duke.  The  cunning  baggage — locked  me  in  one  room, 
whilst  I  locked  you  in  the  other  !  Ha,  ha ! 

(Both  lough  together. 

Dr.  D.  (Aside,  and  observing  them.)  Laughing;  both 
aughing,  ready  to  kill  themselves  !  I’m  paralyzed — are 
they  mad,  or  am  1 1 

Duke.  (To  Pierre.)  Harkye  !  Is  the  Doctor  very  fonci 
of  her  1 

Pie.  The  Doctor  I 

Duke.  Ay,  your  uncle  ;  you  know  she  is  his  mistress. 

Pie.  His  mistress!  Oh,  yes,  I  know  she  is  his  mistress. 

Duke.  Ha,  ha  !  Doe3  he  suspect  that  he  has  a  rival  in 
you  I 

Pie  Hasn’t  the  least  idea,  I  should  say. 


Scene  I.’ 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT 


39 


Duke.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  Poor  Doctor! — and  to  think  this 
fellow,  with  his  simple  air — Ha,  ha  ! — 1  see  now  the  rea¬ 
son  of  his  fright,  when  I  told  him  who  I  was.  He  thought 
I  should  tell  his  uncle.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  ’Gad,  Pve  a  great 
mind  to  do  so,  too — ’twould  be  a  glorious  bit  of  mischief- — 
for  whilst  the  two  dogs  were  quarrelling,  the  third  might 
run  off  with  the  bone.  Ha,  ha,  ha !  [Aloud. j  Go,  my  young 
friend,  to  your  uncle’s  apartments,  and  order  some  break¬ 
fast  for  yourself.  I  have  a  word  to  say  to  the  Doctor. 
Rely  on  my  protection. 

Pic.  Yes,  Monseigneur.  [Aside.}  My  uncle’s  mistress  ! 
Who  can  he  take  her  to  be  ]  Perhaps  it  wasn’t  the  Du¬ 
chess,  after  all  !  Ha!  [Sees  a  corner  of  the  handkerchief 
which  the  Doctor  has  hurriedly  replaced ,  hanging  out  of  his 
pocket. J  I  will  have  my  handkerchief,  though — come*what 
may  of  it. 

[  Whisks  it,  unfelt  by  Doctor,  out  of  his  pocket,  and  exit. 

Dr.  D.  [ Aside .}  To  think  of  harbouring  that  viper  in  his 

bosom — and  to  make  me  an  accessorv. 

•/ 

Duke.  [Aside.}  Yes,  yes,  there’s  no  resisting  it.  1  must 
give  the  Doctor  a  hint — in  all  confidence — that  will  set 
them  both  by  the  ears !  It  is  the  only  way  to  recover  my 
lost  Daphne.  [Aloud.}  Doctor  !  Come  hither,  Doctor  ! — 
My  dear  Doctor — do  you  know,  if  I  were  in  your  situa¬ 
tion,  I  should  feel  rather  uneasy. 

Dr.  D.  [Aside.}  He  little  dreams  of  his  own.  [Aloud.} 
May  I  ask  your  Royal  Highness,  on  what  account  % 

Duke.  You  think  yourself,  probably,  very  secure  in  the 
affections  of  a  certain  lady. 

Dr.  D.  A  certain  lady  !  [Asided  Mercy  on  me  !  has  he 
noticed  my  attentions  to  Ma’lle  Duval  1  [Aloud.}  Monseig¬ 
neur,  you  surprise  me— what  lady  ? 

Duke.  Oh,  you  act  surprise  remarkably  well,  Doctor  ; 
and  I  admit,  that  at  your  age,  and  with  your  grave  demean¬ 
our,  persons  would  scarcely  suspect  that  you  were  the  slavo 
of  a  pair  of  large  dark  eyes. 

Dr.  D.  Large  dark  eyes  !  [Aside.}  He  does  mean  Ma’lle 
Duval. 

Duke.  But  I  am  aware  of  your  passion,  Doctor,  and 
admit  the  lady’s  fascinations  are  a  sufficient  excuse  for  it. 

Dr.  D.  Monseigneur ;  I  will  not  deny,  as  your  Royal 
Highness  ha3  condescended  to  mention  the  subject,  that 


40 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


[Act  II. 


I  do  greatly  admire  .the  lady  in  q  jestion,  and  that  1  have 
reason  to  believe  she  is  not  displeased  at  my  attentions. 

Duke.  Nor  at  those  of  others — 

Dr.  D.  Of  others  !  Monseigneur,  I  have  never  remark¬ 
ed — I  have  never  observed — 

Duke.  Oh,  my  dear  Doctor  !  Let  me  tell  you,  as  a  mats 
of  the  world — 

AIR. — Duke. 

Experience  has  clearly  attested, 

When  matters  take  this  sort  of  turn, 

The  person  who’s  most  interested, 

Is  always  the  last  one  to  learn — 

’Gainst  others,  while  he  espies  treason. 

And  wonders  their  eyes  are  so  dim, 

What  has  been  the  town-talk  of  a  season, 

Like  a  thunder-clap  bursts  upon  him ! 

Dr.  D.  [Aside.]  That’s  excellent  for  him  at  the  present 
moment.  [Aloud. j  Monseigneur,  I  cannot  doubt  the  gene¬ 
ral  truth  of  your  Royal  Highness’s  remark,  but  I  am  con¬ 
vinced,  that  in  this  particular  instance — 

Duke.  My  good  sir.  But  mind — this  is  in  perfect  con¬ 
fidence,  and  only  to  put  you  on  your  guard.  Your  nephew, 
Monsieur  Pierre  Palliot,  is  a  young  man,  too  young  a  man 
to  trust  near  a  pretty  woman,  when — 

Dr.  D.  My  nephew  !  my  nephew  !  Good  gracious, 
Monseigneur; — you  don’t  mean  to  say — [Aside.]  And  he 
puts  him  in  my  apartments  himself. 

Duke.  I  mean  to  say,  that  he  has  contrived  to  find  favor 
in  the  sight  of  your  fair  enchantress. 

Dr.  D.  [Aside.]  The  villain — the  licentious  villain  ! 

Duke.  She  visits  him,  man,  at  his  lodgings  in  the  Rue 
de  L’Echelle — sups  with  him  there! 

Dr.  D.  Pardon  me,  Monseigneur  ;  but  that  impossi¬ 
ble.  She  could  not  return  to  the  palace  without  being 
observed. 

Duke.  [Aside. j  To  the  Palace!  Oh,  oh!  It  is  some 
lady  of  rank,  then,  as  the  young  rascal  asserted  ;  and  the 
locket  which  I  found  as  I  entered  the  private  door,  must 
belong  to  her  !  Ay,  now  1  have  a  clue  ;  but  I  must  not 
appear  ignorant  of  who  she  really  is.  [Aloud,.]  My  good 
sir,  you  seem  to  forget — but  no  matter;  so  let  us  change 
the  conversation. 


Scene  I.] 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


41 


[At  this  moment ,  the  small  door ,  l.,  opens,  and  Ala’ lie 
Duval  enters ^but  stops  short,  on  perceiving  the  Duke 
with  the  Doctor. 

Tell  me — as  I  know  you  are  a  man  of  taste — what  think 
you  of  this  locket. 

T  Producing  the  one  worn  by  the  Duchess  in  the  First 
Act,  and  showing  it  to  the  Doctor. 

Ala' He  D.  [Aside,  j  In  his  hands  !  What’s  to  be  done? 

Dr.  D.  j  Innocently .]  It  is  a  most  elegant  ornament,  Mon- 
seigneur.  The  Duchess  did  me  the  honour  to  show  it  me 

O 

yesterday. 

Duke.  The  Duchess  !  Show  you  this  ? 

Ma'lle  D.  Unfortunate — 

[ Strives  to  attract  his  attention,  by  making  signs  to  him 
with  her  handkerchief. 

Dr.  D.  [Not  perceiving  hcr.\  Yes,  Monseigneur;  and 
the  portrait  contained  in  it,  which  I  have  no  doubt  your 
Royal  Highness  thinks  very  striking.  In  my  humble  opi¬ 
nion,  it  is  the  best  that  has  been  taken  of  the  Duchess,  and 
the  ingenious  manner  in  which  it  is  displayed,  by  pressing 
the  little  ruby  on  the  rim — [The  Duke  presses  it,  and  the 
locket  opens. J  Very  like — perfectly  speaking. 

[ Looking  over  Duke's  shoulder. 

Ala'll c  D.  [Aside.]  We  are  lost ! 

Duke.  [  Furiously . J  Dr.  Druggendraft ! 

[As  the  Duke  turns  suddenly ,  Ala'lle  Duval  glides  be¬ 
hind  a  pedestal,  dropping  her  handkerchief. 

Dr.  D.  Monseigneur ! 

Duke.  Will  you  repeat  to  me  that  this  locket  belonged 
to  the  Duchess  ? 

Dr.  D.  Till  she  presented  it  to  your  Royal  Highness  this 
morning. 

Duke.  ’Tis  false  ! 

Dr.  D.  Monseigneur ! 

Duke.  I  say,  thou  best ! 

Dr.  D.  If  your  Royal  Highness  says  so,  of  course  1  do  ; 
but  the  supposition  was  natural,  as  the  Duchess  told  me 
she  meant  it  for  a  present,  and  of  course  I  imagined  it 
must  be  for  Mon  seigneur. 

Duke.  [Aside.]  Fiends  and  furies  !  Whilst  I  have  been, 
as  I  thought,  amusing  myself  with  a  ridiculous  adventure, 
has  the  Duchess — Confusion!  [ Aloud. ]  Harkye,  Doctor, 
dost  know  where  this  locket  was  found  ? 


42 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT.  [Act  II 

Dr.  D.  Found  !  [Aside.]  Oh,  murder  !  Should  it  he  the 
trinket  that —  * 

Duke.  Dost  know  where  ?  In  the  street — on  the  very 
threshold  of  the  private  entrance  to  the  Palace  ! 

Dr.  D.  [Aside.]  I’ve  made  a  dreadful  blunder  !  W e  are 
all  ruined  now  ! 

Duke.  Dost  know  at  what  hour  ?  Six  in  the  morning  ! 
Dost  know  by  whom?  By  me,  Doctor — by  me! 

Dr.  D.  [Aside.]  I  wish  I  was  in  Krim  Tartary! 

Duke.  You  have  asserted  that  the  Duchess  showed  this 
locket  to  you,  yesterday.  Has  it  been  out  of  her  posses¬ 
sion  ? 

Dr.  D.  I  should  say,  decidedly.  [ Aside.]  As  it  is  now  in 
his  own. 

Duke.  Or  was  the  Duchess  absent  from  the  Palace  last 
night,  and  the  story  of  her  indisposition  trumped  up  to 
deceive  me  ?  Speak  !  no  hesitation. 

Dr.  D.  Monseigneur,  as  I  hope  to  live,  I  did  not  leave 
her  Royal  Highness  till  past  twelve  o’clock  ;  and  you 
yourself  heard  her  ring  her  bell  this  morning1. 

Duke.  That  proves  nothing ;  she  might  have  gone  out 
after  you  had  left  her,  and  whilst  you  were  amusing  your¬ 
self  at  the  Masquerade,  Doctor  ! 

Ala' lie  D.  [Aside. J  Ha! 

Dr.  D.  [Aside. ]  At  the  Masquerade  !  [Aloud. J  Oh, 
Monseigneur  ! 

Duke.  You  were  recognized,  sir — it  is  useless  to  deny 
it — in  company  with  two  females  !  Was  that  a  respecta¬ 
ble  exhibition  for  the  Physician  to  the  Duchess  de  Char¬ 
tres  ?  And  if  my  wife  was  indisposed,  how  dared  you 
neglect  your  duty  ? 

Dr.  D.  Monseigneur,  on  my  knees  ! 

Duke.  Stand  up,  sir,  and  hear  me.  I  will  look  over  this 
conduct,  on  one  condition  only : — that  you  reveal  to  me, 
without  reservation,  any  suspicions  that  you  may  entertain 
respecting  the  Duchess. 

Dr.  D.  [Aside. J  Then  he  does  not  suspect,  even  now  ! 
What  shall  I  say  ?  Ah  !  it  will  be  a  good  way  to  revenge 
myself  on  that  young  villain  !  [Aloud. ]  If  your  Royal  High¬ 
ness  insists — 

Duke.  Ah  !  then  you  do  know  something?  Speak  !  is 
there  some  intrigue  on  foot  ?  Some  favoured  lover? 


Scene  I.] 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


43 


Dr.  D.  Oh,  no,  Monseigneur ;  not  an  intrigue — no  fa¬ 
voured  lover — no  derogation,  on  the  part  of  her  RoyaJ 
Highness — merely  a — a — 

Duke.  Merely  a  what,  sir!  Speak  !  speak  ! 

Dr.  D.  Merely  a  young  coxcomb,  who — 

Duke.  Ah  ! 

Dr.  D.  Who,  presuming  on  an  accident  of  the  most  tri¬ 
vial  description,  imagines  himself  distinguished  by  her 
Royal  Highness. 

Duke.  You  know  him  ! 

Dr.  D.  I  think  I.  could  find  out. 

Duke.  He  shall  to  the  Bastile,  whoever  he  is  ! 

Dr.  D.  [Aside. J  Excellent — the  very  thing  !  [ Aloud .]  If 
your  Royal  Highness  will  give  me  the  order,  I  pledge  my¬ 
self  it  shall  be  executed  faithfully. 

Duke.  You  shall  have  it  instantly.  And  this  locket  ! 
You  know  not  how  it  was  lost — nor  if  the  Duchess  left  the 
Palace  last  night  1 

Dr.  D.  I  am  profoundly  ignorant  of  all  that  passed  af¬ 
ter  I  parted  with  her  Royal  Highness.  [Aside.]  That’s  the 
fact ! 

Duke.  Enough!  If  I  detect  you  in  a  falsehood,  trem¬ 
ble  !  I  go  for  the  “  Lettre  de  cachet,”  and  hold  you  re¬ 
sponsible  for  the  discovery  and  incarceration  of  the  offen 
der.  Take  notice  ! — To  the  Bastile — either  he  or  thou  ! 

DUO. — Duke. — (“  Les  fillettcs  de  St.  Cloud.”) 

He  or  thou  !  he  or  thou  ! 

One  shall  rue  the  day,  I  vow  ! 

So  take  warning,  Doctor,  now  ! 

He  or  thou !  he  or  thou ! 

Dr  Druggendraft. 

He  or  me  !  he  or  me ! 

To  decide,  then,  I  am  free! 

There’s  no  doubt  which  it  will  be, 

Since  the  choice  is  left  to  me ! 

[Exit  Duke.  M a' lie  Duval,  who  has  keen  watching  fen 
her  opportunity ,  passes  quickly  into  the  Duchess's 
apartment ,  it.,  unperceived  by  the  Doctor ,  and  leaving 
her  handkerchief  unnoticed  where  it  fell. 

Dr.  D.  No,  no,  your  fate  is  sealed,  Master  Pierre  Pal- 
liot.  I  warned  you  what  would  happen ;  and  after  the 


44 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


[Act  II 


story  the  Duke  has  told  me  about  you  and  Ma’lle  Duval ! 
whether  true  or  not,  it  will  be  the  safest  plan  for  ail  par¬ 
ties — it’s  a  master-stroke  of  policy — I  shall  be  revenged 
upon  my  nephew,  without  committing  the  Duchess  ;  and 
as  to  her  injunctions  about  him,  she  is  too  much  in  my 
power  to  resent  such  a  breach  of  them.  Besides,  it  is  the 
Duke’s  doing,  not  mine,  and  she  will  not  venture  to  tax 
him  on  the  subject.  And  I  have  here  also,  in  my  pocket, 
a  little  piece  of  evidence — [Puts  his  hand  into  his  pocket, 
and,  misses  his  handkerchief, !]  Eh,  why,  where — what  did  I 
do  with  the  handkerchief  ?  I  certainly  put  it  in  my  pock¬ 
et — I  must  have — ha!  [Seeing  Ma’lle  D.’s.]  There  it  is! 
My  stars,  if  the  Duke  had  seen  it ! 

[Picks  it  up,  and  thi'usts  it  into  his  hosom  hastily. 

Enter  Pierre,  c. 

Pie.  Ah,  my  dear  uncle,  I  could  wait  no  longer — I  am 
dying  to  express  to  you  my  gratitude,  my  delight.  I  have 
been  so  served — so  feasted — such  attentions— such  a  break¬ 
fast — 

Dr.  D.  [Aside.]  1  must  lose  no  time.  [Aloud.]  I  was  just 
coming  to  you.  Go  and  get  a  coach. 

Pie.  A  coach  ! 

Dr.  D.  Yes,  a  hackney  coach,  directly. 

Pic.  It  seems  decreed,  that  everybody  should  send  me 
for  a  coach  !  What  for  ? 

Dr.  D.  You  must  leave  the  Palace  as  soon  as  possible. 

Pie.  Leave  the  Palace — why,  I  thought — 

Dr.  D.  No  words,  you  are  a  ruined  man  ! 

Pie.  Ruined  ? 

Dr.  D.  You  or  I,  one  or  the  other — the  Duke  has  said 

so. 

Pie.  Ah,  really! — Is  there  a  choice?  Oh,  then,  my 
dear  uncle,  as  you  never  did  anything  before  for  me,  here’s 
the  time  to  show  your  affection  !  Now  here  is  really  an 
opportunity — 

Dr.  D.  Silence — I  am  about  to  send  you  where  you  will 
be  taken  care  of,  and  where  it  will  take  some  little  trouble 
to  get  at  you  ! 

Pie.  Indeed!  Well,  that  is  kind  of  you,  too;  and  if 
you  can’t  do  anything  more — 

Dr.D.  Silence!  Here,  Antoine!  [To  a  Servant  pas* 


Scene  I.] 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  r^iGm. 


45 


sing.]  Take  this  young  man — [ Aside  to  Ser.]  Tell  Duroc 
to  put  him  in  a  coach,  and  drive  to  the  Bastile  with  him, 
by  the  Duke’s  order,  as  fast  as  possible.  The  “  Lettre 
da  cachet”  shall  be  sent  after  him — we  needn’t  wait  for 
that. 

Pie.  Oh,  my  dear  uncle,  if  I  can  ever  return  the  obli¬ 
gation  ! 

Dr.  D.  Don’t  mention  it — follow  that  person  directly. 

Pie.  I  must  embrace  you — 

Dr.  j D.  No,  no,  there’s  not  an  instant  to  be  lost !  Go,  go ! 

[  Trying  to  push  him  out. 

Enter  Duchess  and  Ma’lle  Duval,  r. 

Duch.  “  Go,  go  !”  Where  is  he  going  to  % 

Dr.  D.  The  Duchess  ! 

Pic.  (l.c.)  The  Duchess  !  [Aside.]  It  was  the  Duchess, 
then  ! 

Duch.  I  asked  you,  Doctor,  whither  yuu  were  sending 
that  young  gentleman  ] 

Dr.  D.  [Aside  to  her. J  Madam,  I  assure  you,  it  was 
much  against  my  will,  but  his  Royal  Highness  has  per¬ 
emptorily  ordered  me — 

Duch.  Silence,  sir.  [Aside  to  Ma’ He  Duval.]  We  were 
just  in  time,  it  seems.  [Aloud  to  Pierre .]  Are  you  not 
Monsieur  Pierre  Palliot,  the  nephew  of  Doctor  Druggen- 
draft  ] 

Pie.  Yes,  madam,  and  who  had  the  honour  to — 

Duch.  I  am  aware  of  the  service  you  have  rendered  to 
one  for  whom  I  have  a  great  regard,  and  you  shall  not  go 
unrewarded.  Ma’lle  Duval,  conduct  your  young  friend 
into  the  Crimson  Saloon,  and  return  as  I  directed  you. 

Dr.  D.  Pie.  [Aside.}  Her  young  friend  ! 

Ma’lle  D.  [To  Pierre.]  Will  you  follow  me,  sir  1 

Pie.  With  the  greatest  pleasure,  mademoiselle.  [Aside.] 
Her  young  friend  !  I’m  that  lovely  creature’s  young  friend, 
and  didn’t  know  it!  And  my  uncle  to  say  I  was  ruined  ! 
Pooh,  pooh  !  Ruined !  [Aloud..]  Mademoiselle,  permit 
me — [Taking  her  hand.]  Madam,  [To  the  Duchess,]  youi 
Royal  Highness’s  most  devoted  servant!  Uncle,  ahem  ! 

AIR. — (“  TJn  beau  jour  en  promenantA) 

Pierre.  [ Aside  to  Doctor .] 

I  have  neither  wit  nor  grace 
At  court  to  make  my  way,  sir; 


46 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


[  Act  II 


I  had  better  book  my  place, 

And  go  back  to  Beauvais,  sir. 

So  at  least  you  said  last  night, 

And  have  thought  it,  too,  you  might-  - 
What  d’ye  think  to-day,  sir  ? 

What  d’ye  think  to-day  1 

[Exit  with  ME  lie  Duval ,  r.  c. 

Dr.  D.  [Aside.]  Impertinent  puppy  !  Before  my  face  ! 
Her  young  friend,  too  !  Then  the  Duke  was  right,  and 
the  Duchess  knows  it ;  and  actually  sanctions — I’m  bewil¬ 
dered  ! 

Duck,  (l.)  What  is  the  matter,  Doctor  ? — you  look  agi¬ 
tated. 

Dr.  D.  Agitated  !  No  wonder,  madam  !  And  you  will 
be  agitated,  too,  when  I  tell  you  that  the  Duke  has  found 
a  locket,  which — 

Duck.  I  know  it. 

Dr.  D.  You  know  it?  [Aside.]  She  says  she  knows  it, 
as  coolly  as  if — [Aloud. j  Madam,  do  you  know  also  that 
the  Duke  is  in  the  most  fearful  state  of  exasperation — that 
he  suspects — that  he  has  interrogated  me — and  that  from 
one  moment  to  the  other,  I  stand  in  danger  of  falling  a 
sacrifice  to  my  devotion  to  your  Royal  Highness. 

Duck.  I  am  aware,  Doctor,  of  the  exact  point  to  which 
your  devotion  is  capable  of  extending  j  and  that  it  has 
been  drawn  out  to  the  utmost  limits  on  the  present  occa¬ 
sion,  by  the  uncertainty  which  you  are  in,  as  to  which 
course  will  most  affect  your  own  interest.  I  grant  that 
your  position  is  an  awkward  one,  and  as  I  am  conscious 
that  I  have  been  partly  the  cause  of  placing  you  in  it,  I 
am  willing  to  overlook  your  conduct  respecting  your  ne¬ 
phew  and  myself,  on  condition  that  you  give  him  ten 
thousand  livres  towards  settling  him  in  Paris,  as  he  de¬ 
sires. 

Dr.  D.  Ten  thousand  livres!  I  give  him — [Aloud  1] — • 
Madam,  are  you  aware  that  the  Duke  knows  I  was  at  the 
Masquerade,  with  two  ladies,  and  that  he  may  compel  mo 
to  inform  him  who  was  the  one  in  the  pink  domino  ? 

Duck.  You  are  at  liberty  to  do  so,  Doctor. 

Dr.  D.  I  am  at  liberty — [Aside.]  I’m  paralyzed  ! 

Duck.  I  intend  telling  him  myself — but  as  you  appeal 
to  insinuate  a  threat,  let  me  caution  you,  in  return,  not  to 
hesitate  an  instant  as  to  the  ten  thousand  livres  or  you  ma> 


Scene  I.]  V  THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


47 


find  that  the  Duchess  de  Chartres  can  procure  “Lettres  de 
Cachets”  as  well  as  the  Duke.  Apropos,  I  have  one  in 
my  pocket,  which — 

Dr.  D.  Madam,  I — 

Duck.  I  am  sure  you  will  see  the  propriety  of  acting  as 
I  advise  you.  Here  comes  the  Duke — will  you  tell  him 
of  the  pink  domino,  or  shall  I  1 

Dr.  D.  I  am  too  happy  to  leave  the  matter  entirely  in 
the  hands  of  your  Royal  Highness. 

Enter  Duke,  with  “  Lettre  de  Cachet ”  k.  c. 

Duke.  Here  is  the  order.  [Aside.}  Ha  !  the  Duchess  ! 
[To  Doctor,  icho  is  going.]  Stay  where  you  are. 

Duck.  My  dear  Philip,  1  wondered  what  had  become  of 
you  ! 

Duke.  Madam,  I  was  at  this  moment  on  the  point  of 
seeking  you. 

Duck.  I  began  to  fear  that  your  hasty  journey  from 
Compeigne  had  fatigued  you  more  than  you  were  willing 
to  admit,  and  that  you  might  perhaps  pay  too  dearly  for 
an  act  of  gallantry  towards  me,  of  which,  I  assure  you  I 
am  deeply  sensible. 

Duke.  [Aside.  |  The  traitress!  and  at  the  same  time — 
[Aloud. J  Madam,  it  is  with  much  regret  that  I  am  com¬ 
pelled  to  doubt  the  sincerity  of  that  acknowledgment ! 

Duck.  Oh,  surely  you  would  not  do  me  so  much  injus¬ 
tice  !  what,  not  appreciate  such  a  proof  of  your  affection  as 
riding  all  night — for  you  must  have  done  so,  mustn’t  you, 
to  reach  Paris  by  five  or  six  in  the  morning,  from  Com¬ 
peigne  ]  Apropos  of  Compeigne — does  the  King  intend 
visiting  the  camp  shortly  ] 

Duke.  [Aside. ]  Her  coolness  petrifies  me  !  [Aloud.]  I 
know  not  whether  this  indifference  is  real  or  affected,  but 
there  is  a  circumstance  to  which  I  must  call  your  serious 
attention ;  and  which,  as  it  affects  the  honour  of  my  name 
and  your  own  reputation,  I  must  insist  upon  having  a  full 
and  satisfactory  explanation  of — 

Duch.  Oh,  lud  !  I  vow,  you  quite  frighten  me  !  What 
is  it,  in  the  name  of  all  that’s  terrible  ? 

Duke.  Madam  !  cease  this  ill-becoming  levity.  Behold 
this  locket,  madam  !  [Producing  it.  |  The  sight  of  it  should 
turn  you  into  stone  ! 


48 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


[Act  II. 


Duck.  Well,  that  is  the  rudest  thing  I  ever  heard  in  my 
life,  considering  that  it  contains  my  own  portrait !  Do  you 
mean  to  say  I  am  a  downright  Gorgon — a.  Medusa  ] — Oh, 
fie,  Monseigneur!  Is  this  the  gallant  Duke  de  Chartres  ! 

Duke.  Impudence  unparalleled!  You  recognize  it — 
you  acknowledge  your  acquaintance  with  it,  and  do  not 
sink  to  the  earth  at  beholding  it  in  my  hands  ! 

Duck.  Sink  to  the  earth  !  Why,  my  dear  Duke,  what 
should  have  such  an  extraordinary  effect  upon  me — unless, 
indeed — Oh,  good  gracious !  you  don’t  mean  to  say  she 
gave  it  to  you  ] 

Duke.  She  ! 

Dr.  D.  [Aside.]  She! 

Duck.  You  wouldn’t  surely  display  to  me  a  proof  of  her 
shame  and  your  perfidy  !  Oh,  no — no,  Monseigneur,  I 
will  not  wrong  either  Ma’lle  Duval  or  yourself  by  the 
thought,  for  one  moment ! 

Dr.  D.  [Aside. |  Ma’lle  Duval  ! 

Duke.  Ma’lle  Duval !  What  folly  is  this]  Madam,  I 
found  this  locket,  which  contains  your  portrait,  and  which 
was  yesterday  your  property — I  found  it  this  morning  in 
the  street,  at  the  threshold  of  the  private  entrance  to  the 
Palace,  of  which  only  you  and  1  have  a  key. 

Duck.  Bless  me  ! — Did  you,  indeed  ] 

Duke.  I  did,  madam  !  and  I  demand  to  know  by  what 
possible  accident  it  could  be  there  ] 

Duck.  Nay — you  must  ask  Ma’lle  Duval — 

Duke  Sf  Dr.  D.  Ma’lle  Duval  again  ! 

[In  this  and  all  the.  subsequent  echoes,  the  Doctor's  is  al¬ 
ways  aside. 

Duck.  Certainly:  for  either  she  dropped  it  there  herself, 
or  somebody  must  have  stolen  it  from  her  ;  at  any  rate,  it 
was  lucky  you  found  it,  for  I  am  sure  the  loss  of  her  locket 
would  have  greatly  distressed  her. 

Duke  fy  Dr.  D.  Of  her  locket ! 

Duck.  Yes — her  locket — my  gift — which  she  received 
with  so  much  delight  and  gratitude  only  last  evening. 

Duke ,  Your  gift — last  evening,  to  Ma’lle  Duval  ] 

Duck.  What’s  the  matter  with  the  man]  Is  there  any¬ 
thing  so  very  extraordinary  in  my  having  made  her  such 
a  present  1 — are  not  such  things  done  every  day  ] — didn’t 
you  give  a  snuff-box  with  your  portrait  in  it  to  your  Secre- 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT 


Scene  I.] 


49 


tary — and  didn’t  the  King — and  your  father  the  Duke  of 
Orleans — 

Duke.  Madam — madam  ! — of  course,  I  know — \ Aside t] 
Confusion  !  have  I  made  a  fool  of  myself  by  my  suspi¬ 
cions,  or  is  this  some  subterfuge  ?  [Aloud. J  Where  is  Ma’lle 
Duval  ? 

Duck.  In  the  Ciimson  Saloon. 

Duke.  I  must  see  her — instantly — 

Duck.  I  fear  you  will  interrupt  a  tender  interview. 

Duke  Dr.  D.  A  tender  interview  ! 

Duck.  There  is  a  young  gentleman — a  nephew  of  Dr. 
Druggendraft — who  has  been  deeply  smitten  by  her. 

Dr.  D.  [Aside. J  The  serpent — the  cockatrice  ! 

Duke.  The  young  man  who  was  here  just  now? 

Duck.  No  doubt — he  ivas  here  just  now— do  you  know 
him  ? 

Duke.  Know  him  % — I — I  saw  him  here.  [Aside. J  The 
devil’s  in  the  fellow  ! — is  this  another,  or — 

Duck.  Ah  !  now  I  remember — he  told  me  you  had  seen 
him,  and  promised  him  your  protection  !  How  very  kind 
of  you — wasn’t  it,  Doctor  ? 

Dr.  D.  Too  kind  !  a  great  deal  too  kind  ! 

Duke.  [Aside. j  What  does  all  this  mean  !  [Aloud  to 
Doctor .]  Now — before  the  Duchess— without  equivocation, 
declare  your  reasons  for  presuming  that  some  one  had 
dared  to  entertain  certain  views  with  regard  to  Her  Royal 
Highness ! 

Duck.  What ! — Did  the  Doctor  insinuate - oh,  Doc¬ 

tor,  Doctor!  I’m  ashamed  of  you! 

Dr.  D.  Madam,  I  assure  you,  I  never  for  one  moment 
imagined — it  was  only — as  1  told  the  Duke — the  presump¬ 
tion  of  a  young  madman,  who,  because  your  Royal  High¬ 
ness  happened  to  drop  your  handkerchief  from  your  car¬ 
riage  window  at  the  moment  he  was  passing — 

Duke.  How  !  her  handkerchief! 

Duck.  [ Aside. \  Is  it  possible  ! — Unfortunate  ! — I  did 
lose  a  handkerchief — he  will  never  believe  it  was  by  ac¬ 
cident — 

Duke.  [Aside.]  She  is  confused  !  [  To  Doctor .]  Has  he 
the  handkerchief  in  his  possession  ? 

Dr.  D.  No,  Monseigneur. 

Duke  ty  Duck.  [  With  different  expression.]  Ha ! 

E 


50 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


[Act  II 


Dr.  D.  It  is  in  mine — I  took  it  from  him,  that  he  might 
not  compromise  her  Royal  Highness  by  any  vain  display 
of  it. 

Duch.  [ Aside .]  No  hope  ! 

Duke.  You  took  it  from  him — then  you  do  know  who 

he  is  ] 

Dr.  D.  I  regret  to  acknowledge — he  is  my  nephew 
Pierre  Palliot. 

Duke  Duck.  Your  nephew  ! 

Dr.  D.  \  Aside.]  I  have  him  now  ! 

Duke,  f  Aside.]  Confound  the  rascal !  is  he  making  love 
to  the  whole  Court !  [Aloud  to  Doctor.]  Produce  the  hand¬ 
kerchief! 

Dr.  D.  It  is  here.  [Draioing  the  handkerchief  from  hu 
bosom ,  and  giving  it  to  Duke. 

Duke.  Now,  madam  !  perhaps  you  will  tell  me  it  was 
by  accident  this  kerchief  fell  from  your  coach  window  ] 

Duck.  [Aside,  having  examined  it.]  Oh,  Fortune  !  [Aloud 
and  coolly .]  How  should  I  know  ! — this  handkerchief  be¬ 
longs  co  Ma’lle  Duval. 

Duke  Dr.  j D.  Ma’lle  Duval ! 

Duch.  At  least,  those  are  her  initials. 

[Handing  it  back  to  Duke. 

Duke.  Why,  Doctor! 

Dr.  D.  Monseigneur]  [Aside. ]  It’s  witchcraft !  I  could 
take  my  oath  I  saw  her  own  cypher  and  crest ! 

Duke.  Dr.  Druggendraft — did  your  nephew  assert  that 
this  kerchief  was  flung  to  him  by  the  Duchess  ] — Remem¬ 
ber  !  he  is  here,  and  can  be  confronted  with  you. 

Dr.  D.  No,  Monseigneur!  I  acknowledge  that  it  was 
only  my  suspicion,  in  consequence  of — because  I — [Aside.] 
Oh,  dear !  oh,  dear !  he  wouldn’t  believe  me,  if  I  swore 
it! 

Duke.  And  you  have  dared — 

Duch.  Hold,  hold,  Monseigneur — I  must  intercede  for 
the  Doctor,  whose  head  is  not  quite  clear,  perhaps,  from 
fear  of  your  displeasure  on  another  and  more  serious 
charge — but  one  for  which  I  am  alone  accountable — 

Dr.  D.  [Aside.]  Eh  ! — she  won’t  tell  him,  surely  ! 

Duke.  What  other  ] — speak,  Madam,  speak  ! 

Duch.  My  dear  Philip,  I  was  guilty  last  night  of  a  very 
great  piece  of  imprudence,  for  which  I  have  been  so  se- 


Scene  I.J  v'  THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT.  51 

verely  punished,  that  I  do  not  think  you  will  add  to  my 
self-reproaches  any  of  your  own. 

Duke.  Last  night ! 

Dr.D.  \ Aside.]  She  will  tell  aim ! 

Duck.  Yes:  I  was  impelled  by  an  unconquerable,  but 
foolish  curiosity,  to  take  a  peep  at  the  Masquerade. 

Duke.  The  Masquerade  ! 

Dr.  D.  [Aside.]  She  has  told  him  ! 

Duck.  Knowing  that  I  could  pass  from  my  own  apart¬ 
ments  through  a  corridor  to  that  part  of  the  Palace  in 
which  the  Theatre  is  situated,  I  ordered  Ma’lle  Duval  to 
procure  for  me  a  pink  domino. 

Duke.  [Aside.]  A  pink  domino  ! 

.  v  Duck.  And  for  herself  a  blue  one —  and,  despite  of  all 

remonstrances,  compelled  the  Doctor  to  accompany  us  to 
the  Ball. 

Duke.  [Aside.]  My  head  spins  round! 

Duck.  We  had  scarcely  arrived,  however,  when  a  rude, 
>  impertinent  fellow,  who  was  probably  intoxicated,  created 
a  confusion,  during  which  he  succeeded  in  separating  us 
)  from  our  learned  protector  there,  when  Ma’lle  Duval,  be¬ 

lieving  that  I  was  the  object  of  attack,  rapidly  exchanged 
dominos  with  me,  and,  suffering  herself  to  be  pursued, 
gave  me  an  opportunity  of  regaining  my  own  apartments 
discovered  and  unmolested ! 

Duke.  Exchanged  dominos ! 

Dr.  D.  Then  what  became  of  Ma’lle  Duval 

Duck.  By  a  most  fortunate  accident,  she  found  a  pro¬ 
tector  in  the  person  of  your  nephew,  Doctor,  who  carried 
ner  in  a  fainting  state  to  her  own  lodgings. 

Dr.  D.  To  his  own  lodgings  !  Ma’lle  Duval  ! 

A  Duke.  [Aside.]  The  devil ! — but  it  might  have  been 

worse.  If  the  Duchess — 

Duck.  And,  as  soon  as  she  was  sufficiently  recovered 
procured  a  coach  for  her  to  return  in. 

Duke.  [Aside]  A  coach — she  hasn’t  said  a  word  abou'. 
the  supper. 

Dr.  D.  Returned  in  a  coach  ! — How  did  she  get  in  I-— 
I’ve  been  watching  all  night. 

Duck.  By  the  private  door — with  my  key — which  you 
»  know  I  tiiok  with  me  for  fear  of  accidents. 

Dr.  D.  [Aside.]  I  don’t  believe  a  word  of  it ! 


i 


52 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


[Act  U. 


Duck .  Do  you  forgive  my  imprudence,  Philip  1 

Duke.  [Aside.]  I  ought  to  say  something  very  mo:al, 
and  rather  severe.  [Aloud.]  Madam — the  candour  of  your 
confession  could  alone  moderate  the  just  and  terrible  in¬ 
dignation  with  which  J  should  otherwise  have  received  the 
tidings.  But  for  the  generous  devotion  of  Ma’lle  Duval— 
a  devotion  which  I  scarcely  know  how  to  recompense — 
your  reputation  might  have  been  tarnished,  and  my  name 
made  a  bye- word  in  the  Court  of  Versailles. 

Duck.  They  might — they  might — I  am  overpowered  by 
the  thought!  To  have  risked  my  fame — and  that  of  the 
most  faithful  and  devoted  of  husbands! — a  husband — who 
at  that  very  moment  was  enduring  fatigue — and  braving 
the  perils  of  darkness — in  order  to  press  me  to  his  bosom, 
a  few  hours  sooner. 

Duke.  Enough — enough — -I  forgive  you — I  forgive  you. 
[Aside .]  I  must  see  Ma’lle  Duval  instantly,  and  purchase 
her  silence  at  any  price — 

Duck.  You  forgive  me  1  Oh,  rapture! — too  generous 
man — your  anger  I  might  have  supported,  but  this  kind¬ 
ness  quite  overwhelms  me  !  It  is  more  than  I  can  bear — 
Doctor,  I  feel  very  unwell — call  Ma’lle  Duval. 

Duke,  f — I’ll  go  for  her. 

Duck.  [Catching  hold  of  hi?n.\  No,  no,  don’t  leave  me, 
Philip — I  shalltfaint — Ma’lle  Duval. 

Dr.  D.  Ma’lle  Duval ! — Ma’lle  Duval ! 

Enter  Ma’lle  Duval,  c. 

Duck.  Oh,  Louise — I  have  told  the  Duke  all  my  folly, 
and  your  devotion — he  is  all  goodness  to  me,  and  gratitude 
to  you.  He  has  found  your  locket,  too — give  it  her  back, 
Monseigneur — and  here,  Louise,  in  addition,  take  this  ring. 

Duke.  [Aside.]  My  ring  !  Confusion  ! 

Duck.  ’Tis  a  pretty  bauble,  is  it  not,  Philip  1  It  was 
given  me  by  a  poor  gentleman  of  Normandy,  whose  father 
had  ruined  himself  in  the  king’s  service,  and  then  received 
from  the  royal  munificence,  a  pension  upon  which  it  was 
impossible  to  exist. 

Duke.  [Aside.]  Ah,  I  begin  to  see  through  all  this  ! — 
but  I  am  in  the  toils,  and  must  submit 

Duch.  He  died,  poor  man — and  his  son  came  to  Paris  to 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIG1IT. 


Scene  I.] 


53 


urge  the  claims  of  his  family — he  is  promised  a  regiment, 
and  if  you  would  kindly  i*?e  your  influence  for  him — 
Duke.  [Aside.]  Madam,  madam  ! — I  see  you  know  all ! 
I  am  at  your  mercy. 

Duck.  [Aside  to  him.]  Pardon  for  pardon,  my  dear  Phi 
iip  — there  is  something  to  forgive  on  both  sides. 

Duke.  [Aside.]  It  was  you  whom  I  supped  with  in  the 
Rue  de  L’Echelle. 

Duch.  [Aside.]  But  the  Doctor  had  better  believe  it  was 
Ma’lle  Duval. 

Duke.  And  Monsieur  Pierre  Palliot — 

Duch.  I  never  saw  till  last  night — when  he  really  ren¬ 
dered  me  a  service  which  should  not  pass  unrewarded. 
Listen  to  what  I  propose.  [They  talk  aside,  r. 

Dr.  D.  Ma’lle  Duval  ? — May  I  believe  my  ears  ? — Were 
you  at  the  Rue  de  L’Echelle  last  night,  with  my  rascally 
nephew  1 

Ma’lle  D.  Hush,  Doctor — if  it  should  get  wind — what 
would  the  Court  say  1 

Dr.  D.  The  Court !  It  is  I,  Ma’lle  Duval,  who  am  most 
interested  in  this  matter — I,  whose  ardent  passion — 

Duke.  [To  Duchess.]  By  all  means — provided  Ma’lle 
Duval — 

Duch.  I  have  spoken  to  her — she  has  no  objection. 
Duke.  Then  it  lias  my  sanction.  Ma’lle  Duval,  the  Du 
chess  has  informed  me  of  the  pretensions  of  Monsieur 
Pierre  Palliot. 

Dr.  D.  But,  may  it  please  your  Royal  Highness — it  is 
T  who  pretend  to  the  hand  of  Ma’lle  Duval — my  attach¬ 
ment,  as  I  had  the  honour  to  inform  your  Highness — 
Duke.  Yours! — was  Ma’lle  Duval  the  lady,  then,  to 
whom  you  alluded  1 

Dr.  D.  Undoubtedly,  Monseigneur. 

Duke.  [Aside.]  Bravissimo  ! — I  shall  punish  the  Doctor, 
at  all  events.  [Aloud.]  How  is  this,  Ma’lle  Duval  1  do  you 
return  the  Doctor’s  affection  1 

Ma’lle  D.  Certainly  not,  Monseigneur — 

Duke.  And  you  have  no  objection  to  the  nephew  ! 
Ma’lle  D.  I  have  promised  Her  Royal  Highness — 
Duke.  My  dear  Doctor,  I’m  sorry  for  you — but  the  lady 
is  engaged,  you  see--Monsieur  Pierre  Palliot! — where  is 
Monsieur  Pierre  Palliot. 


54 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  A  NIGHT. 


[Act  I 


Enter  Pierre,  r.  c. 

Pie.  At  your  Royal  Highness’  service. 

Duke.  Young  man — you  have  presumed  to  entertain  a 
passion  for  a  lady  attached  to  the  household  of  the  Duchess 
de  Chartres,  without  the  knowledge  and  permission  of  her 
Royal  Highness. 

Pie.  I! 

Duke.  [Aside^\  Silence,  or  the  Bastile !  [. Aloud .]  Fortu¬ 
nately  for  you,  your  passion  is  returned. 

Pie.  It  is ! 

Duke.  And  the  services  rendered  by  Ma’lle  Duval  to  the 
Duchess,  induce  us  not  only  to  look  over  your  imprudence, 
but  to  consent  to  your  union.  Take  your  wife,  sir. 

Pie.  My  wife  ! — oh  !  with  all  my  heart. 

Dr.  D.  But,  Mon  seigneur — 

Duke.  Silence  ! — or  the  Bastile — 

Duck.  And,  in  addition  to  the  ten  thousand  livres  which 
the  Doctor  has  promised  me  to  give  his  nephew — 

Pie.  Oh,  my  dear  uncle  ! 

Dr.  D.  But,  madam,  really — 

Duck.  Obedience,  or  the  Bastile  !  \Aloud. ]  In  addition 
to  those  ten  thousand  livres,  I  shall  give  the  bride  twenty 
thousand  from  my  own  purse,  as  an  acknowledgment  of 
her  services. 

Duke.  And  I  the  same  sum  to  the  bridegroom,  as  a  to¬ 
ken  of  my  approbation !  [Aside  to  him.]  And  the  price  of 
his  discretion. 

Pie.  Oh,  Monseigneur !  oh,  Mademoiselle !  oh,  uncle  l 
A  beautiful  wife  and  fifty  thousand  livres !  I  shall  go  era 
zy  with  joy ! 

Dr.  D.  And  I  with  vexation ! 

AIR. — Duchess. — From  (( Le  Philtre .” 

Ye,  who  so  oft  have  deigned  to  cheer 
This  poor  heart,  with  fear  when  sinking, 

That  you  would  still  support  me  here, 

Say,  have  I  been  too  bold  in  thinking? 

Let  it  not  your  bosoms  harden. 

Should  mine  not  have  judged  aright 
But  to  the  Follies  of  To-Night, 

Add  the  error  with  your  pardon, 

And  kindly  put  all  cares  to  flight. 


THE  J?NT>. 


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